Tangled: Witch War
by BubblesRRJ
Summary: Taking place after the events of Tangled: The Series Season One, Tangled: Witch War explores what would happen if the treasonous alchemist, Varian, escaped from prison six months after the Battle of Old Corona. With a mysterious map from his father, Varian sets out for a cursed forest in search of a witch who once served the king - and who may know how to save his father.
1. Prologue: The Crimson Caster

**Long ago,** before the seven kingdoms rose to power, there was a time when magic ran rampant throughout the land of Corona. The very earth teemed with it, every tree and animal thriving from its power. There was magic in everything, an old magic that only seemed to grow with each passing day. It was in this ancient land that a certain plant grew. No one truly knew how it came to be, but those with an affinity for magic could sense it, smell it in the air, hear it calling like the haunting tones of a child's song. This plant was a flower, wreathed in gold and bathed in a glow that rivaled the sun itself. Mages and witches of every practice traveled to study the flower, but none dared to touch it; it became taboo to even consider uprooting such a precious treasure, and as the centuries passed and the land was claimed by a juvenile monarchy, the flower fell into obscure legend.

The kingdom of Corona was peaceful, prosperous, and in good standing with its neighbors. The economy was stable, its seaways and city walls protected. Trade was encouraged, and Corona soon became the seat of a culture unlike any before seen in the world. In time, the magic of the land fell asleep, and those who once partook of its power fell into the nebulous realm of myth and fairy tales.

In the golden age of Corona, there ruled one King Frederick and his wife, Arianna. A beacon of discipline and reason, King Frederick established an education system in his youth that would soon enable all of his citizens to learn and grow in ways they had never before been privileged to. Harvests were more bountiful, and children dotted the streets like sweet poppies. It seemed that the king and queen of Corona had been blessed in their reign. But the Coronan chantry reminded any and all who entered a chapel; it must needs be that there is opposition in all things.

The queen was expecting a child, and it wasn't long before she started to show signs of illness. As her condition deteriorated, the king consulted every physician and apothecary he could summon, trying to find the one who could save his wife. Many strived to find the answer. They all failed. Desperate, the king fell upon a last resort; to ask for the help of a mage. It was a quest he refused to entrust to any other but himself. He traveled among his people in secret, visiting everywhere from bustling marketplaces to dank and shady pubs, inquiring each and every individual where the mages had gone.

"There are no mages," his people answered. "Not anymore."

Defeated and frightened, King Frederick prepared to retreat home. With sorrow weighing heavy on his heart, he stayed at a small inn not far from his beloved castle. Tempted to drown his sadness in the latest blend of Coronan brandy, he shook his head at the bartender and sighed. Raising a trembling hand to his troubled head, he did not notice someone sit down next to him.

"I thought I might find you here, your Majesty." It was a quiet voice, somber and husky.

Startled, the king's eyes darted to the man. His hand fell with relief when he recognized him. "Quirin," he greeted with the enthusiasm of a dead fish. "It's been a while, old friend."

"So it has," Quirin waved the bartender away. "None for me tonight." He ran a hand through his hair; Frederick noticed a silver hair peek through, and the village leader's eyes were ringed with sleeplessness. It seemed that time and position had been less than kind to both of them. "So," Quirin continued, sighing again. "The rumors were true. You've been searching all this time to find a way to save your wife."

Frederick felt bitterness dilute his pain. "Have you come to discourage me?"

Quirin shook his head. "I would do no such thing. You're the king. It's not my duty to stand in your way."

"Then why are you here?" Frederick frowned.

Quirin's hand shifted over the worn, beaten bar counter, his fingers tracing the booze-stained wood grain. "I know someone who might be able to help you," he murmured. "They call her the Crimson Caster, a woman with red hair and a crimson eye. She comes to the town about five leagues south to sell her wares, potions and remedies for common ailments."

"I've sought common treatment," Frederick snapped. "I need a miracle."

"In this day and age," Quirin leaned back in his seat, "mages are the miracle workers."

Frederick's eyes widened. "Quirin," he breathed, his voice beginning to shudder. "Are you sure?"

"Traders speak highly of her," Quirin elaborated softly. "No one knows where she lives, but one trader claimed he saw her disappear into the Haderon Forest."

The king's shoulders tensed, tight enough to cause a headache. "That forest is cursed," he said warily.

Quirin chuckled dryly. "Well, what better place to find a witch, then?"

"And what if she curses my unborn child," Frederick speculated, "or causes Arianna to be barren?"

The sound of barstools sliding back from a table screeched through the stagnant air. As patrons left, the smell of rain flooded through the open door. "Frederick," Quirin said gravely. "She'll die either way. You could always return home and face that." He stood from his seat, staring down at the king's somber face. "Or you could have a little faith in the one thing that could save her."

In the twilight of the queen's pregnancy, the king took Quirin's words to heart. He called forth the captain of the guard and instructed him to lead a small group of scouts to search the Haderon Forest for the Crimson Caster. The captain's soldiers were wary, but their loyalty to the king won out. They fulfilled their orders and traveled to the cursed woods. They searched for weeks, their supplies dwindling, their morale whittled down by fatigue and poor weather. But the captain's determination clung to his devotion; he knew he must find the key to saving the queen.

Then, one night, a shadow fell upon his rain-battered tent. A voice called out, clear and lilting with an Irish accent.

"You and your men are lost," a woman spoke. "You should have known better than to travel these woods."

The captain emerged and discussed his mission with her, explaining the king's distress. The night sky seemed to press down on them like a black sheet, no star in sight to light the way. "This is their firstborn child," the captain finished. "If the queen perishes, there will be no heir."

The Crimson Caster nodded slowly. Her hair was a dusky red, and her eyes glinted in the light of the dying campfire. "I see," she murmured. "That is a concern."

The captain's lips tightened. "Surely there is something you can do."  
The Crimson Caster blinked, her crimson eye winking in and out of view. "It is your intention to escort me to the castle?"

"If you will permit it."

"Very well, then." The Crimson Caster bowed her head. "I will go with you to see the king."

The gates to the castle opened wide for the Crimson Caster's entrance. King Frederick himself greeted her in the judgment hall. With guards at his back and a watchful eye, he brought her to the queen's bedside. "Well, witch?" the king insisted after a moment's silence. "Is there anything you can do for her?"

The Crimson Caster seemed lost in thought, her red eye searching up and down over the queen's fevered form. She reached her hand out and hovered in the air over the woman's burdened stomach; Frederick just barely stopped himself from slapping her away. "It's alright, little one," the king heard her say. "You won't die. But the queen will."

"I cannot accept that!" The king hissed in outrage. "I do not believe you would agree to come here if there was not something you can do!"

The Crimson Caster sighed sharply. She looked conflicted, and her hand fell back to her side. The moment stretched out again, agonizingly silent and dim. "Tell me, my king," she finally spoke. "Have you heard of the Sundrop flower?"

Frederick coughed in disbelief. "A child's story. It doesn't exist!"

"It does," the Crimson Caster answered sharply, her red gaze boring into his. "And I know where it is. All who feel magic do. It is like the sun, burning over the horizon of our kingdom like a flaming star. I know where it is, and I know it will save the queen. She is at death's door. It is the only thing that can save her now."

The king breathed sharply through his nose. He didn't like being given ultimatums. But to save his wife… "Do it," he ordered. "Bring it to me."

But the Crimson Caster raised one slender finger. "On one condition, King Frederick. I wish to have full access to your library. Not the city library. Yours."

Frederick barely bothered to even consider her request. "Yes, done, of course! Just do whatever it takes to save my family!"

The Crimson Caster blinked slowly. "I am not heartless, my lord. I will warn you of the dangers of using the flower. To disturb a magic so deeply rooted…It could spell disaster in a number of ways."

The king looked to his wife. He reached for her pale, clammy hand and held it fast in his. "Whatever price," he whispered. "I'll pay it."

And so, the Crimson Caster led the king's scouts to where the Sundrop flower grew. Word spread of a hope in the darkness, a light that could bring the royal family back from the brink of despair. Many prayed the rumor was true, that the queen would be saved and a new heir would be born. But there was one who did not believe the Sundrop was the answer.

"Frederick," Quirin begged at the king's throne. "You can't take the Sundrop. Even if you do find it – "

But the king's decision was resolute, his voice of reason ignored. "I'll accept the consequences of this, if it saves her."

"It won't be your consequence," Quirin retorted. "The entire kingdom will be in danger!" He said many things to the king that day, words of terrible warnings and dark lands filled with decay. All these things, King Frederick ignored, and Quirin left with his heart in his shoes. That night, the king accepted the flower and watched as the Crimson Caster demonstrated how to prepare its magic.

"Have her drink it," she told him, her voice quiet and weary. "And pray that your people forgive you for whatever travesty may come to pass."

As Frederick raised the elixir to his wife's lips, he stared back at the Crimson Caster. His eyes were cold, determined. His words were caustic and biting, words that would not be forgotten. "And may your guilt be reflected with mine."

The queen was saved, her child secure. The kingdom erupted into celebration, praising the miracle that had preserved the royal line. No word was breathed about the Crimson Caster, and she disappeared from the southern lands. The king's newborn child was a daughter, and she was given the name, Rapunzel, after the flowers that sprouted in humility towards the sun. The king watched a new dawn break over his kingdom, and he heaved a sigh of relief…

…Until his daughter was stolen.

How the thief managed to infiltrate the castle was a mystery; many claimed it was magic. At the sight of his wife weeping for her lost child, the king felt rage take over his grief-stricken mind. There was only one person he suspected to have taken his daughter. After locking down the castle, he ordered his knights to scour the Haderon Forest.

After three months, they returned empty-handed.

While the kingdom's guard increased their efforts against criminal activity, the king set aside a very special group of soldiers. They were hand-selected, each a seasoned warrior with impressive skill. "I want every witch, wizard, warlock, and magic user brought to the castle for interrogation," he demanded. "Anyone and everyone who claims to have known this woman will comply or suffer the same as every other criminal you find. Hunt them all down!"

And so, the witch hunters began their crusade. As the few mages left in the kingdom were routed and dragged back to the castle, the Crimson Caster remained unfound. Neighbors were suspected, and distrust spread like a plague. Magic became a forsaken art, suffocated by the realm of science and alchemy. A shadow fell across Corona as the months turned into years, and the princess was still nowhere to be found. It seemed that the future of the kingdom would fall into an age of disarray.

But the queen encouraged her husband not to give up. Each year, on their daughter's birthday, they petitioned each and every citizen to craft a floating lantern, after a tradition from a faraway land the queen's sister had shared with her. In the evening, they'd send their makeshift lights to the heavens, singing a prayer for the princess to return.

And, one day, she did.

But the Crimson Caster did not.


	2. Chapter One: Prison Escape

**It was** three o' clock in the morning when Varian, son of Quirin, escaped from Corona's prison.

It wasn't like his conditions in the dungeon were terrible; he knew he had received more "hospitality" than others who were kept there. The most luxurious complement was having his own cell, though that was probably more out of keeping him from being killed by other prisoners. Not that he was sure they cared – the prisoners, not the guards – about whether he lived or not. In the end, it didn't matter. He was getting out, and everyone else could sit tight and rot.

It wasn't an easy feat, planning his escape. It was much more difficult than the stratagem he'd formulated against the princess. He'd had his own base before: his home. He knew the land, predicted the routes that would be taken to reach him. He had been the one in control. Now, he was trapped behind cold iron bars with a dank, moldy cot and a hole for a privy. And no ham sandwiches. At least he had Rudiger; Varian had crawled out of his self-pity long enough to acknowledge that surprising allowance.

It was a mistake the guards would soon regret.

Unlike Varian, who, if nothing else, was experiencing an inopportune time to hit a growth spurt, Rudiger was only getting bigger by one way; if Varian could remake his chimera serum. He couldn't think of anything else to call it; it was either that or P2639, which was the trial number that he'd finally deemed safe to test. But, since anything and everything Varian had ever owned had been confiscated by the Coronan army, he was playing this game with only Rudiger as his trump card.

He tapped his foot impatiently against the grimy stone floor of his cell, his arms folded as he waited for Rudiger to return. It seemed the guards didn't even realize how well the racoon could fit through the bars, let alone how intelligent the creature could be. It was nighttime, the time when Rudiger was at his best. He slept during the day, a living cushion sitting on the cot while Varian mapped out plans and alchemical compounds in his head. When night came, that was when Varian would give Rudiger very simple, but specific, instructions. He'd first tell the racoon what to get for him, then how to time his escape so that he wouldn't be seen. Rudiger was cleverer than he looked, and he'd never failed Varian yet. But he was worried this evening; he'd expected his little friend to return almost two hours ago.

He gave the far wall over his cot a split-second glance. He'd kept everything he needed behind a loose brick there. He didn't need much, but he knew that if the guards suspected anything, all his efforts would be wasted. It was a liability he couldn't afford, not now when he was so close. It had taken six months to reach this point. If things fell through, he was certain there was a chance he'd lose his mind.

A small, shuddering scuffle cracked in his ear, and he flinched at the sound. He looked to see Rudiger at the cell window, the animal's black nose twitching as he twisted his way through the bars. At the same time, Varian heard another, much more alarming sound. It was the voice of a new soldier, come to change the guard. Panic clawed its way up Varian's spine, and he hissed at Rudiger to get back. The racoon blinked confusedly before wrenching himself backwards and flying around the corner just in time for the new guard to pass by Varian's cell door.

"Heh," the guard chuckled as Varian quickly assumed a nonchalant pose and donned his usual sardonic expression. "You're still here, huh?"

Varian rolled his eyes. "Come on, Martin, where else would I be?"

The guard, Martin, jostled the keys on his belt absentmindedly. He was one of the younger soldiers, maybe eighteen. Varian could tell he was younger because he was a little more uptight than the other guards. He never took his helmet off, and the straps on his breastplate always used an extra notch. He was also more loose-lipped, one of the only guards to actually carry conversations with the prisoners. Truth be told, Varian didn't mind the interaction; it reminded him that he still existed. "Well, besides the idea of you trying to escape by now, I heard the king was finally getting around to finding some use for you."

Varian's frown became more genuine. "Like I'd work for him. But just for argument, what kind of use?"

Martin shrugged, his armor clinking. Varian couldn't see his expression through his helmet. "Research, I think. Under armored guard, of course. Can't have you trying anything funny." His posture softened. "But he has taken a lot of thought about what to do with you."

Varian made a noise between a laugh and a cough. "Of course, he has. I'm the only one who's ever managed to make him squirm. I wasn't kidding, you know. That night when I said he's been lying to everyone?" Varian knew he was a lot of things, but of that claim, he knew he was justified.

"Yeah, well," Martin learned on the wall outside the cell. "Has anyone ever told you there are enough bad things in the world that you don't need to add to?"

"And have I ever told you that this isn't a confessional?"

Martin chuckled again. "Probably a few times, now."

Varian sighed, his breath misting in the damp air. "I don't need the king's pity," he grumbled. "Or yours."

"Fair enough," Martin felt the end of the conversation. "It's wash day. I'll be waking you up in four hours for the bathhouse."

Varian waited for Martin to turn around and walk down the dimly lit hall. He watched the guard's shadow until it disappeared before lurching back to the cell window. "Rudiger!" he hissed. "Come on, it's safe now." The racoon reappeared and squeezed through the bars, leaping into Varian's arms. A small vial was clutched in his left paw. Varian grabbed it and inspected the contents. He carefully popped the cork and took a sniff. A triumphant smile spread across his freckled face. "That's the one. Good job, buddy." He felt the racoon's claws cling to his shirt as he double-checked the door before reaching for the loose brick in the wall. He peered into the hole at his other ingredients, each one painstakingly collected over the past half-year. "Let's see, there's F102, C438, S215…" He listed each one under his breath, running them through his head to make sure he had everything he needed. "That's it." He glanced at the creature on his shoulder. "Alright, Rudiger. It's showtime."

Rudiger made the closest thing to a human smile. He was ready to leave as much as Varian was. Not that he couldn't leave on his own, obviously, but he would never leave his master behind. Who would he play with?

The chimera serum had not been easy to come up with, but once Varian had known what to do, it was really a simple matter of mixing everything together. It was a formula he knew was stable; it had to be, or he would never have used it on Rudiger in the first place. He'd had Rudiger obtain the first compound in a large flask, so that he could mix everything together without using something that might tip off the guards. As he began the process, a flicker of excitement worked its way into his breast. He was really going to do it. He was finally going to be free.

Rudiger didn't need much; a mouthful was more than enough to trigger the reaction. Varian looked at the racoon and, for the first time in six months, gave a real smile. "Thanks, Rudiger. I couldn't have done this without you." He shook the flask in his naked hand. "Are you ready?"

Rudiger bared his teeth and stuck out his tongue. The serum tasted like bitter, acidic lemon. The reaction happened faster than last time; he began to twitch and stretch almost before Varian was able to set him down and back away. He capped the rest of the serum and tied it securely to his trousers. A lingering node of doubt itched at the back of Varian's head. Had he gotten it right? He was sure he'd remembered correctly. If he hadn't…

But, sure enough, the racoon began to expand. A discharge of light blossomed from the creature's skin, and Varian looked away, shielding his vision from the transformation. He still wasn't entirely sure where the light came from, but he didn't argue when he felt a massive, wet, cold nose snuffle against his cheek. He opened his eyes; he could barely see anything. His animal now took up the entire cell space. He could hear the bars straining as Rudiger tried to move his leg out of the way, enough for Varian to have room to skirt around and haul himself up onto the racoon's back. Varian could feel the muscles tense in the creature's body, and he looked to see Martin staring at them through the bars. At least, Varian assumed the guard was staring; he was standing there in his helmet, shivering with dread.

"B-but," Varian heard Martin stammer. "It's wash day!" he finally exclaimed.

"Sorry, Martin," Varian said, a wide grin spreading across his flushed face. "Tell the king I'll have to take a raincheck!"

Rudiger spun and lunged at the cell window. The bars snapped like toothpicks, and the brick and mortar crumbled like hard cheese. Varian ducked as the massive racoon scratched and dug his way out into the open air, kicking up clods of green as he dashed across the moonlit courtyard. All around, they could hear guards clambering and panicking, scrambling about for orders on what to do with a prison escape the likes of which they'd never seen.

Rudiger was a force that refused to be stopped. Some guards tried to stand in his way, spears and halberds at the ready. Rudiger batted them aside like cotton balls; Varian watched them fly into the grass, scattering like leaves as they cried out and moaned from their rough landings. As Rudiger reached the castle wall, he started to climb, his black claws digging deep into the cracks of stone. Two leaps, and they made it out into the open street. The cobblestone path was almost comically small for the racoon now; he practically frolicked past the torch lamps and empty shops. Varian saw a few onlookers peek out from their homes, gasping and screaming as his monstrosity tore past in a flurry of grey and black. Varian was sure he looked like a kid at Christmas; after six months of frowning and sulking, now he couldn't stop smiling. The open wind blasted his black hair from his face, his worn-out clothes whipping against his skin as Rudiger bore him onward to freedom.

The city guard was more than prepared for a stray thief or a suspicious trader entering or leaving Corona. But when they saw a racoon the size of a small building racing towards them, they gave in to basic, instinctual self-preservation and scattered like marbles from the gate.

"Rudiger?!" Varian's smile turned into a grimace of alarm. "Rudiger, wait!"

Rudiger plowed into the iron gates. The metal did not give way as easily as the old, rusting bars of Varian's prison cell. Varian nearly flew over Rudiger's head from the inertia of the sudden, jolting crash. Rudiger snarled and lashed out, pushing and shoving against the dent he made. The gate was stronger than Varian had predicted, and as Rudiger began to back up, he started to panic. "No, no, no, no," Varian repeated over and over under his agitated breath, his eyes searching wildly for another way around. But he knew there was no other way. He'd traveled to and from Corona before (in a deadly blizzard, no less). There was only one way by land to reach the island capitol, and that was the bridge. While still under repair from an incident that occurred on the day of the snowstorm, it was accessible to the public. But everything Varian knew about the bridge had now effectively been rendered academic. Even with Rudiger's transformation, there was no way they were breaking through that gate.

As the city guards began to regroup, Varian could hear a flood of troops erupting down the street from the castle, shouting and galloping on horseback, their suits of armor clanking and chiming through the night air. Varian felt hopelessness wrap its fingers around his neck, and he started to hyperventilate. There had to be another way. There had to be. Oxygen flooded to his brain, fueling his search for an answer.

Then he remembered. The docks. It was the only way now.

Rudiger hated water. He was more like a cat that way than anything. He didn't like being wet. Varian supposed that if he was a racoon, he might be able to understand a little better. As it was now, they didn't have a choice but to take a swim. Varian managed to calm down enough to swallow and grab the fur on Rudiger's neck. "This way," he gasped, yanking Rudiger in the direction he needed to go. Rudiger didn't understand where they were going, but thankfully, he obeyed. He dashed down the east road before the guards could reach them, and Varian ducked with a yelp as he began to hear the whistle of crossbow bolts whizzing past them. He figured the soldiers probably weren't trying to hit him. But his racoon? They'd kill his friend without hesitation. Rage pushed his fear away, and he steadied his breathing to a furious rhythm.

"We're almost there," he reassured Rudiger. "Almost there. Come on!" They finally fell out of range, rounding a street corner towards their destination. Rudiger was fast.

But as they reached the docks, Varian felt the inevitable balk as Rudiger screeched to a halt. The moist wood creaked under his weight as he whined and whimpered, nearly standing on his hind legs. Varian latched on tight, climbing his way to Rudiger's ear. "Listen," he whispered desperately. "I know you're scared. I am too. But if we stay here, they'll kill you." His father would be as good as dead, and he'd be placed under even tighter security. Varian had no intention of dying old and alone in a dungeon, which was exactly what would happen if they didn't escape. Desperate, Varian slid off Rudiger's back and ran to the edge of the dock. "Come on, buddy," he urged, beckoning to the white-eyed creature. "It's not going to hurt you, you'll float. It's not far, just…" But Rudiger sat down, staring fearfully at the lapping waves. "Oh, come on, you stupid - !" Varian realized it was time to play tough. "Fine! Go ahead and stay here! I'm gone!" He jumped into the water, boots and all, ducking under the dock to await Rudiger's reaction. Sea salt stung his nose. He held onto the post and listened, waiting with each heartbeat. One painstaking minute passed.

Then Varian saw a shadow launch through the air, and a heaving splash washed over his head. Varian spat seawater out of his mouth and quickly swam over, reaching Rudiger in a few strokes. The racoon looked like a giant, wet, grey moss ball, his fur almost black with damp as he snuffled and growled his discomfort. Varian grabbed handfuls and began to tug him back under the dock, just in time to avoid being spotted by the guards. They listened to the soldiers' pounding feet overhead; someone, probably the captain or lieutenant, barked orders to search the buildings nearby. They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air. They split up like a hill of ants, parading back towards the city streets. Varian watched Rudiger's nose, waiting. When it twitched, he knew the guards were far enough away. Treading water, he coaxed the racoon out and managed to drag himself up onto his back. The moon winked behind a swathe of clouds overhead, illuminating a path of glimmering light across the way. Waterlogged and exhausted, Varian pointed his finger forward.

"Alright, Rudiger. Take us home."


	3. Chapter Two: Return to Old Corona

**It was** **with** dread that the captain of the guard approached the king's study, his mustache bristling as he pursed his lips together. It had been difficult enough to request the king's presence so early in the morning; he knew his Majesty barely slept enough without interruptions. How could he say this in a way that wouldn't get him relieved of duty, or worse, thrown in the stocks? There was no excuse, no good news to give, except the fact that no one was seriously injured during the escape. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose as a headache blossomed between his eyes.

Then he raised his gloved hand to the door and gave a sharp rap of his knuckles. "Enter," he heard the voice. He turned the knob and entered he study, straightening his back as he closed the door behind him. A lamp was lit on the king's desk, the small flame wavering as the air pressure rustled a few papers strewn across the wood surface. King Frederick stood before a map on the wall; it was a detailed geographical layout of Corona. The captain briefly noted a series of markers placed on the map, each a black point that indicated the spread of the mysterious black rocks.

"Your Majesty," the captain bowed low. "Forgive me for this. I wish I had happier news to give."

"I've already heard," the king spoke gravely. He was facing away, making it difficult to see what he was truly feeling. "The boy's escaped." The captain heard him sigh heavily. "I assume he's headed for Old Corona?"

"I've sent scouts ahead," the captain answered confidently. "If he's there, we'll find him."

The king sighed again, and the captain saw his shoulders slump. "What sort of collateral damage do we have?"

"Several guards were injured, but no one's been seriously hurt. There's a breach in the prison where he escaped, but it's been contained to the one cell. There shouldn't be any other mishaps here. But sir, I'm concerned about what he has planned."

King Frederick finally turned, his greying head bowed low to his chest. His face was tight, his eyes peering into empty space as the air between them filled with silence. "Send a message to the princess," he ordered calmly. "This is not a summons. It is merely a precaution, a warning, if you will. She deserves to know, just in case."

The captain felt a pang of disappointment and shame prick his heart. "Your Majesty…You really think we won't be able to catch him?"

The king looked up at him; his eyes softened. "As I said, it is merely a precaution. She should be kept up to date on developments here. She deserves that much, after everything that's happened. If you do apprehend him, then we will follow up with a reassurance. In this way, we will all be prepared."

The captain felt little reassurance, but he nodded his head. "Understood, sir."

"Captain?" The king said firmly. "If you can catch him, do what you can to make sure the boy is unharmed. I could never forgive myself if I let Quirin's son come to harm. That boy is all he has left."

The captain felt the urge to frown at the king's sentimentality. This boy had threatened his life and injured his men. He'd kidnapped the queen to strongarm the princess, and when his efforts were fruitless, he'd threatened the life of his own daughter as well – all treacherous acts he found extremely difficult to set aside in favor of leniency. But he loved his king; hard as it was, he knew he must obey.

"I'll do what I can, your Majesty."

888

A cold wind fluttered through the trees, a whisper of autumn whistling across fallow fields of grain and empty vineyards. It would have been a more serene landscape if it wasn't for the black, sinister formations that had lanced through the earth, shooting up in menacing spikes towards the darkened sky. They mocked Varian as he passed, slumped with fatigue on Rudiger's back. He had lost track of time, but he figured the serum would wear off soon. The breeze was chilling on his damp back, and strands of blue and black flew into his eyes. He shivered and clung closer to Rudiger, trying to keep warm as they climbed the hill overlooking Old Corona.

The sight of his village caused Varian to feel a hundred different emotions at once. He gazed out over the decimated houses, the orchards that had been uprooted, the rubble and broken automatons that lay strewn across the dirt roads he'd once played in as a child. He looked at it all and felt something rise up inside him. It shuddered in his chest, bubbling in his throat. He realized it was laughter. He laughed out loud at the sight of it all, the surreal, unholy display of devastation and emptiness. He laughed until his stomach hurt, and he cringed forward as his laughter turned into tears. He wept openly into Rudiger's neck, hiccupping with grief and pain. Rudiger whined underneath him, the sound slowly coaxing Varian out of his mournful trance.

Varian forced himself to sit upright again; he felt like he might retch, but it wasn't like he had much in him to heave. Prison rations had always been few and pitiful. "Let's get to the tunnel, Rudiger," he mumbled, urging the racoon forward with his heels. They descended down the hill and into the village street; Rudiger picked his footsteps carefully to avoid the black rocks that flanked them on both sides. The sun had started to break over the horizon, red rays stretching across the black, banishing the night away. Varian knew they didn't have much time to stay here.

It didn't take long to find the entrance to the tunnel. It was the same hidden under Varian's supply shed – at least, what was left of it. The sight of his home's remains left Varian feeling empty. It seemed he had already exhausted all emotion for the day. He tried to dismount from Rudiger, and it was about the least graceful thing he'd ever attempted. He fell flat on his back; the impact was mild, but enough to knock all the air out of his lungs. He lay there, stunned, staring up at the brightening sky. The red-lined clouds were moving swiftly, and another chill breeze filled him as he caught his breath. A part of him wanted to curl into a ball and weep some more. Another part wanted to just start screaming. But he knew he couldn't afford to do either, so he dragged himself to his feet. His knees threatened to crumple, his legs shaking as he stumbled towards the wreckage. He started to clear the debris away, his hands trembling as he tossed bricks and hauled shattered posts aside.

A flash of light caught his eye, and he glanced over at Rudiger as the serum finally wore off. As the racoon returned to his normal size, he sneezed and began to clean his face. Varian felt a small drop of gratitude slide down his empty heart. His home and village were destroyed, his father encased in an amber prison, the people he once wished to serve were all gone, and he was wanted for several accounts of high treason – and now with prison escape on the list…but at least he still had Rudiger. He sighed shakily as he hefted one more beam away, shoving it off the hatch that led to the tunnel. It was damaged, but at least he could open it.

His legs were still weak as he descended the ladder, and he nearly fell again. Rudiger followed him, his black feet scuttling down the rungs to the bottom. Varian took the serum from his belt and gave it a little shake, encouraging the bioluminescent reaction. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough to keep him from tripping over his own feet as he made his way down the tunnel and into an old, dark cavern. Varian had once tried to build a boiler down here, among other things. After it and four others had exploded, pieces of shrapnel littered the stony ground. Some pieces of metal were even imbedded in the cavern walls, sticking out in wicked protrusions like the black rocks that had now sprouted through the cold earth.

Varian searched until he found a sheet of fabric, concealing a large, rectangular object. He slid the sheet aside to reveal a trunk with a symbol etched into the lid: a circle with three lines branching from its center, like a cat scratch. Varian unlatched it and opened it to reveal the contents, some of which were his belongings. He set the chimera serum aside and extracted a lantern and a rudimentary flint-and-steel device: one of the first contraptions he'd ever made. He set the steel to the flint and clicked the lantern to life, the oil popping twice as he hung it on one of the pieces of shrapnel on the wall. "That's better," he said to Rudiger as the timid, flickering light flooded their dark corner of the world. "I don't know about you, but I think it's time for something new to wear."

As he'd planned for Corona's royal family to assault his home, Varian had taken certain precautions, preparing for the slim chance that things fell through. One was to take as many of his belongings as possible and hide them in the caverns. Anything that could have been used against him, he either hid away or personally destroyed so that they wouldn't be confiscated by ignorant hands. His bag of tools was one such commodity, among a series of key ingredients he couldn't afford not to have. Changes in clothing were another, a resource he immediately made use of. He checked himself for any signs of hypothermia before donning a new shirt and trousers; they seemed smaller than before, but he barely noticed as he tied on his spare blacksmith's apron and readjusted his pair of goggles. It was the one piece of apparel the guardsmen had allowed him to keep after the siege, and he wasn't about to leave them here. His alchemist's coat was next. This time, he definitely noted that the sleeves were shorter than he remembered; it actually fit him now. He tugged on a pair of black, strapped gloves that had to have once been his father's.

He briefly considered taking the strange helmet, marked with the same symbol as the lid, but he felt it would be more of a hindrance than anything. He had the same attitude about the sword as well; he had very little experience with swordplay, which was really none at all. Taking it would only serve to put himself at risk more than anyone else. He did, however, take his father's hunting bow – something he did, thankfully, know how to use. Quirin may not have spent as much time with his son as Varian would have preferred, but he did at least teach him how to hunt. Varian, of course, would be sure to make his own modifications to it, as well as his own personalized set of arrows, but that would have to wait until he was safely out of the monarchy's reach. He slung his bag over his shoulder and attempted to string the bow; it was difficult, but he managed to loop it tight and slide it over his chest.

He strapped on the quiver before taking the lantern and crossing over to the far side of the cavern. There, he had a shelf filled with various alchemical compounds and ingredients, each clearly labeled with a tag attached to the cork. A few bottles and vials had been knocked over by Rudiger, who wasn't afforded human finesse when retrieving the compounds Varian had needed in prison. Varian felt the racoon climb up his leg, gripping the leather collar of his coat as he looked over Varian's shoulder. Varian knew he couldn't take the entire shelf, so he chose wisely, grabbing only the compounds he wouldn't be able to make on the road. He took what ingredients he would need for a head start and tucked them carefully into his bag, making sure things wouldn't jostle too much in travel.

By the time he was finished, Rudiger was whining with hunger. "I know, buddy. I'm hungry too," Varian admitted. He felt Rudiger paw at his cheek. "There's just one last thing I need to take care of." He crossed over again to a different side of the cavern, his grip firm on the lantern's ring. He reached a pulley system he had rigged up, checking over the mechanism. It was still functional, which he knew he shouldn't have been surprised of. After all, he'd triggered similar devices that had been crafted centuries ago. He gave his racoon a small glance. "Don't worry, Rudiger," he said. "We'll be back soon. But I can't let anyone else down here while we're gone."

With that, he reached for the pulley and gave a swift tug. He stepped back as a loud crack issued from the ceiling, where he'd placed beams to keep a slate slab from breaking off the cavern wall. As the beams gave way, the slab broke off and slid down the rock, slamming into the ground with enough force to nearly shake Varian to his knees. As he'd measured, the rock fell just in place, blocking the entrance to the cavern. It would take an explosive to clear the way; no soldier Varian knew of could walk through solid rock.

Varian latched the lantern to his belt and tucked Rudiger into his arms. "Let's go," he said, running towards the back of the cavern. He navigated his way through a series of tunnels both new and old. The new tunnels he'd excavated himself, decoys to deter anyone who managed to find the hidden entrance. He paused at one tunnel, one that wasn't a decoy. It was a tunnel he told himself to pass, but he found his feet traveling down it anyway. He reached another ladder and listened carefully at the bottom; when he heard nothing, he climbed, skipping a rung in between. The upper hatch was still open from when the princess had infiltrated his home with the king. The memory made him sick to his stomach.

He slowly entered the basement of his home, taking in the sight of the wreckage. He clutched at his gut as he panned around, staring at what had once been his space, his sanctuary. When his eyes finally fell on the amber crystals, his heart began to pound like a war hammer in his chest. For just an instant, he felt a small stray thread of hope tugging at the possibility that his father was somehow free. If it was true, Varian wouldn't even question how.

But his hopes were groundless. His father was still there.

He'd seen him there often enough now, long enough for the sight to last in his mind for years to come. He approached the crystal and reached his hand out to touch it, then stopped himself before he could. His outstretched hand curled into a fist, and it fell back to his side.

"Hey, Dad," he breathed, his gaze boring into the floor. "Listen. I'm going to find the answers to this." He reached into his bag and produced a wrinkled piece of vellum parchment, unfurling it in his hands. It was a map from his father's trunk, one that he'd studied several times now. Several notes and markers were on it, leading to places Varian hadn't even heard of before. He had heard of one location on the map, though: a forest to the south. "The princess can't help," he said bitterly. "Even if she could, she wouldn't now. There's only one thing I haven't tried, one person I haven't asked for help."

Varian wasn't a firm believer of magic. Many had thought his works were arcane instead of alchemic, which meant that anything resembling magic was probably just that: resemblance. But if there was someone out there who could imitate magic as well as he could, then it meant there may be another alchemist out there who could help him. "I wish you could tell me who the Crimson Caster is," he muttered, tapping the name inscribed next to a point on the map. "I wish you'd told me a lot of things. Someday, you will. I'll be back. I swear it. But until then…Haderon Forest is where I'll start."

Then he turned away and crossed back to the ladder, sliding back down into the depths.


	4. Chapter Three: The Bounty

**"And so I** said, 'Rectum? Darn near killed him!'" chuckled Eugene Fitzherbert. "Of course, that got me kicked out of that particular establishment – clearly the bartender didn't have a funny bone in his body. But hey, at least I got to sleep outside in the fresh, non-mildew air for the evening, and who can beat that, I mean…Huh." He realized that the person he had been narrating to had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Her blonde hair was strewn in silky sheets around the campfire, nearly six dozen feet of it trailing through the grass. He spotted a line of drool trailing down from the corner of her mouth; it had just started to soak his sleeve. If it was anyone else, Eugene might have thought it just a little gross. But it was Rapunzel, so it was just cute. He smiled and tucked his arm around her, sighing happily. "Good night, Blondie."

Rapunzel snorted and yawned. "G'night, Eugene," she mumbled, tugging a stray strand of hair from her lips before resuming her nighttime snooze.

Across the campfire, Rapunzel's handmaiden, Cassandra, prodded the fire with a dry stick, coaxing the flames over a fresh log. "You know, Fitzerbert?" she said in her usual, wry tone, "after traveling out here for the past six months, I think I'm finally starting to understand what she sees in you."

Eugene didn't buy it for one second, but he was still awake enough to play along. "Oh really? And what, pray tell, might you see?"

Cassandra gave what Eugene could describe only as a dry giggle. "That at least you're good for a laugh," she replied, sitting back on an old, fallen tree. "Am I right, Lance?" She glanced over at their other companions for encouragement, then frowned when she saw they were all asleep. "Right," she said with a crisp 't' at the end. "Guess I'll be first on watch tonight. What a surprise."

"Ah, come on," Eugene said. "You know you like taking first watch. You don't trust anyone else to do a better job of it, anyway."

"True," Cassandra admitted. "Well, a better job than you, at least."

"Ha, ha," Eugene droned. "And you said I was the one who was good for…" He trailed off when he saw something flicker in the corner of his eye.

Cassandra heard him stop and followed his trail of vision. "What is it?" she said, instantly serious.

"Don't know," Eugene answered quietly. He carefully shifted Rapunzel to the ground, cradling her golden head in his hands. "Sorry, sweetheart. I got to go check on something." He slowly stood and stepped past the fire, peering as his eyes adjusted to the encroaching dark. "You sure it's not your little puffball up there?"

"Nope," Cassandra gestured to her owl, who was perched atop the carriage. "Do I need to check it for you?"

"Shut up," Eugene muttered. "It looks like a bir-whoa!" He ducked his head as a very large hawk burst out of the tree, whirling in the air above the campfire. "Big bird! Very big!"

"Relax!" Cassandra snapped, leaping to her feet. "You're going to wake up the whole camp!" She stretched her arm out, but instead of her owl swooping to land, the hawk did. It was a grey hawk, unusually sized, with a pair of piercing yellow eyes and a wicked beak. A leather thong was tied to its leg, with a mahogany capsule attached. "It's one of ours," she told him, a note of surprise in her words. "I'm amazed she found us this far out from the castle." She unlatched the capsule and handed it to Eugene. "It must be a message from my dad. I hope everything's alright."

Eugene opened the capsule and extracted a rolled-up piece of parchment. "Let's see, here." He squinted at the ink.

Cassandra smirked; the hawk on her arm shifted a little. "Can you read it?"

"Better than you can," Eugene retorted, stepping closer to the fire so that he could read. "Well, what do you know? It is from your father, about…" His bemused expression turned first to disbelief, then to alarm. "Oh. Oh, no."

"What?" Cassandra insisted. "What is it?"

Eugene finished reading, then quickly rolled the paper back up. "I'm not sure I want to say here," he admitted, glancing pointedly at the sleeping princess. "I'm not sure I want her to hear this."

"Eugene?" Cassandra set the hawk loose, sending it up to where her owl perched. "What is it?"

Eugene stepped a little closer, the words coming out in a hushed whisper. "It's Varian," he hissed. "He's escaped."

Cassandra's eyes shot wide open, and her crossed arms fell to her sides. "What? Let me see that." She snatched the paper from him and read it herself. As she did, her face became hard as a stone wall. "We need to do something," she asserted.

Eugene gave an astonished cough. "Are you kidding? What can we do? We're almost to this 'dark kingdom' place, we're this close to fixing the black rock problem. We can't turn back now just because some punk kid escapes from prison. Besides," he folded his arms. "I don't think he would come after us."

Cassandra gave him an incredulous look. "Why wouldn't he? He has it out for Rapunzel! Why else would he escape?"

Eugene shrugged. "Well, not to say that I'm a crazy teenage alchemist, but if I was, I would be focusing more on finding a way to free the father I accidentally imprisoned than focus on taking it out on a princess who – and we learned this the hard way – can't do a single thing to help. This kid may be a lot of things, but he's not _that_ deluded."

Cassandra growled in frustration, the paper crumpling in her hands. Then she sighed sharply. "We can't just ignore this, Eugene. They sent it to us for a reason."

"Then we'll be on our guard," Eugene concluded, "but we can't just set aside what we're doing here. Our mission is more important right now."

He watched Cassandra shake her head. "I don't like it. I don't like any of it." Her gaze fell on Rapunzel, lost in sleep by the fire. her expression grew somber. "We need to tell her," she said.

"It'll only upset her," Eugene protested. "It wouldn't help."

"But she deserves to know," Cassandra argued. "I know better than to keep secrets from her. Do you?"

Eugene frowned. "Low blow, Cassandra. Fine, I'll talk to her. But not tonight." He realized his hands had turned into fists at his sides, and he slowly released them. "She deserves to rest."

Cassandra shook her head again as she returned to the fire, stirring the dying flames back to life. "I don't know about you," she muttered over her shoulder, "but I won't be getting any rest tonight."

* * *

"The evidence is there," the captain reported. "I assessed the area myself. He did go to Old Corona. Somehow, he managed to leave before we arrived. We found a secret tunnel, but he's blocked it off, and my men can't find wherever he managed to escape. He's got a whole series down there - my men just get lost."

Even though it had been over a week since the boy's escape, King Frederick still didn't look well-rested. He wiped a hand across his tired face, his eyes red and beady as he observed the captain's report at his desk. Nigel, the royal advisor, stood at his shoulder, his weak chin wrinkling as he pursed his shrewd lips.

"Call off the search," the king said.

Nigel's eyes bulged with surprise. The captain swallowed wrong and started coughing. "I'm sorry, sir," he said through a blurry haze. "It sounded like you said to call of the search."

"Your hearing serves you well, Captain."

"But," the captain spluttered. "But your Majesty!"

"I must agree with the captain, my king," Nigel exclaimed, tugging nervously at his silk cravat. "To call off the search for this boy is to let a highly dangerous criminal escape justice!"

"Gentlemen," the king said patiently. He tucked the papers into a pile and set them aside. "I understand your concern, but there have been no reports of any suspicious activity that could be traced back to Quirin's son. Nor is he still present in Old Corona, which means that whatever he has set out to do, it is not to harm the people. The safety of my subjects comes first, and, at the moment, there has been no threat made against them."

The captain's face was red. "So you're asking us to let him go?!" he burst out. The king gave him a stern look, and the captain quickly ducked his head. "Forgive me, your Majesty."

"I'm not saying Varian's escape is of no concern," the king explained firmly. "However, he has effectively duped us in the past. Any efforts we make, he will most likely see it coming." He snapped his fingers at Nigel. "Which is why we will deliver the resolution of this agenda to the people."

Nigel frowned. "The people, sir?"

"The people of Corona have obtained peace, now that my daughter has returned." King Frederick stood tall, crossing his arms behind his back. His crown glinted from the sunlight filtering through the glass window, the ornate metal a ring of fire on his head. "It is a peace that I believe they won't want disturbed."

Nigel still looked confused, but the captain started putting two-and-two together. "So we let the people find the boy for us," he said slowly.

"Exactly." The king looked at the two men. "You will both collaborate on issuing a bounty across Corona. No one is to openly confront him, but a generous reward will be offered for the sighting that leads us to him."

"Yes, of course," Nigel agreed. "I'll see to it that the people are notified of the bounty."

The captain stood to attention. "And I'll make sure every able-bodied soldier stationed throughout Corona is ready."


	5. Chapter Four: The Haderon Forest

**It took Varian** over a week to reach the Haderon Forest. The travel itself wasn't difficult; it was keeping out of eyesight that was harder than he'd realized. It was nearing the autumn season, which meant people were out harvesting in the fields and hunting in the brush. Varian wouldn't have been so concerned with being identified further south, but he'd seen the guards in the streets, noticed the bounties already being posted in corners and by lamp posts. If no one knew him before, they would know him now. It didn't help that the infernal blue streak in his hair only made him more identifiable, not to mention the fact everyone would know he was being accompanied by a racoon.

Dangerous as it was to pass through a town or village, Varian kept to the outskirts, camping under craggy recesses and sleeping behind jagged waterfalls. He followed the riverways, searching for good rocks to file into arrowheads and failing miserably to net any fish. Rudiger would pout occasionally, to which he would tell the racoon that he was a born scavenger and could find his own food…then feed Rudiger anyway with whatever was left from his snares. All the while, Varian's paranoia kept him from truly resting easy. He felt like he was constantly looking over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone was tracking him. Just to be safe, he tried to wander in his path a little, winding through dense underbrush and stepping through places where he was less likely to leave tracks. He was almost too absorbed in keeping himself hidden to realize that he had finally reached the edge of the Haderon Forest.

"They say it's cursed," Varian told Rudiger as he studied the grey, knotted trees. Their silvery leaves danced in the gentle breeze, a few drifting loose and twirling to the lush ground. Varian picked up a leaf and tucked it into his bag. "Too bad. I don't believe in curses." He strode forward, pushing branches out of his way. He glanced back to see that Rudiger hadn't moved. "Rudiger?" He noticed the racoon shivering, his fur standing up on end, his tail tucked under his legs. "You alright?"

Rudiger actually shook his head, and he took a step backwards. His eyes flitted back and forth, and his teeth began to chatter.

Varian sighed and stepped back out from the trees. He crouched down by his little friend and reached to stroke the creature's back. "It's okay to be scared, Rudiger. I know this hasn't been easy, but we're almost there. I'm still here, and I won't let anything happen to you." He picked up the racoon and tucked him into his arms. "Besides, you're the one who can turn into a giant animal. If anybody should be scared, it's me, and you don't see me running away." He ducked back into the trees, stray sprigs snagging on his coat sleeves. His boots crunched on older leaves and fallen twigs until the forest spread out before him. It was dark beneath the rustling canopy; it was midday, but so little light made it feel like dusk. Varian found himself opening his eyes wider as his vision adjusted, keeping Rudiger close as he wound his way past tall oaks the size of temple pillars.

"Hold on," Varian muttered, settling Rudiger into the crook of one arm. The creature clung to him as he pulled out the map and squinted to read it. "Let's see…if north is…Where is north?" He sat down on a tree root and set the map aside, digging through his bag to find his compass. Varian had made his own compass a long time ago, and it had never failed him. He'd even built a barium gauge into it to measure atmospheric pressure. But as he pulled it out to find north, he froze when he saw the needles. They were spinning and wobbling every which way. Varian shook it once, twice, to no effect. The needles refused to stay still, and the barium meter kept fluctuating to extremes. "That's impossible," he wondered aloud. "It shouldn't be doing that!" His disbelief slowly turned into anxiety. If he couldn't find north in this place, then the map was as good as useless.

He noticed Rudiger staring at him; the racoon's tail had tucked under his legs again. "So what?" Varian said with a forced smile as he put the map and compass away. "As long as we can keep track of the sun, we can find our way through this place just fine!" He stood up and gazed at the canopy overhead, trying to discern the sun's location in the sky. But the foliage was too dense; he could barely make out any sunlight from any direction. "It's fine," he said with less confidence. "It's…Well, the Crimson Caster's got to be around here somewhere. Dad's notes imply he has some degree of magical magnitude." He sighed and picked Rudiger up again, continuing on through the dense terrain. "Whatever that means, there's a possibility he already knows we're here. I mean, he's probably lived here longer than we've been alive, which means he knows this place like the back of his hand." What Varian didn't mention aloud was that it also meant that the Crimson Caster could easily avoid anyone trying to find him. But if someone could live in this forest, then someone could learn to navigate it. And Varian was a fast learner.

Time stretched on; he wasn't certain how much had passed since he and Rudiger had entered the forest, but he knew that at least four hours had gone by. He did manage to find a bubbling spring beneath a crag, which he and Rudiger rested by as he tried once more to find his bearings. There was one pattern he had noticed: the trees' roots grew in a similar direction to each other, suggesting the forest grew on a gradual slope. A slope meant water, most likely a river. Varian pulled the map out again and searched for a water line. Sure enough, there was a river that ran south of the forest, which meant that Varian was heading east. It still didn't tell him exactly where he was, but at least he wasn't walking around in circles.

"It's going to be dark soon," he said to Rudiger. "Let's hope we find – " He stopped when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. "Rudiger, get behind me," he ordered, swiping his father's bow off his back and nocking an arrow to the drawstring. The racoon scrambled behind his leg as a grey and black snake emerged from under a rock, its blue tongue flicking in and out of its fanged mouth. Varian recognized it as a Coronan Greyback. They weren't venomous, but they had a fast, wicked bite and often carried diseases. Varian aimed carefully and slowly started to back away. "That's right," he said as the snake froze in place. "I hear Greybacks are good eating, so let's all just - !"

He wasn't able to finish the sentence because he was suddenly falling backwards. His foot had found no purchase behind him, and his own weight hauled him down. The arrow went flying upwards as he flailed his arms, tumbling head over feet down a rocky hill he didn't even realize had been there. He heard Rudiger give a sharp cry.

As Varian finally rolled to a stop, his ears were ringing. He was sore in several places, and he was pretty sure his shin was bruised, but thankfully, nothing was broken. He winced and groaned as he pushed himself off the ground and brushed loose dirt and grass off his clothes. He double-checked his belongings; everything was miraculously still in place, except for his bow. He found it a few feet away, and he quickly retrieved it as Rudiger bounded down the hill after him.

"I'm fine," Varian assured his friend as the racoon pawed worriedly at his boot. "I'll live. Just a few scrapes." He peered at their new surroundings, then his eyes opened wide at the sight of a wide clearing ahead. "Hey," he said. "Hey, I – I think this may be it."

He hiked through the last few stretches of forest, emerging in a small meadow filled with clover and violets. There, in the middle of the meadow, was a log cabin with a clay brick chimney and rough-cut eaves. There was no path to the door, but Varian could see a single window, blocked out by a curtain from inside.

Varian felt a grin spread across his dirt-streaked face. He could hardly believe it; he'd found it! He slung his bow over his shoulder and made his way purposefully to the front door. He glanced around as he did so; even though he was certain no one had followed him, he had to be absolutely sure. When he saw no one, he climbed a handful of worn stone steps to the cabin porch. The old wood creaked under his feet, and he winced at the sound. He didn't realize how silent this place was, and he could have sworn he heard a gasp from inside. Nervous apprehension set his heart beating fast, and he hesitated before knocking on the door.

Then he remembered why he was here. He couldn't afford to be afraid. Steeling his resolve, he bunched his fist and rapped his knuckles three times.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the curtain in the window flashed open just enough for Varian to see an eye peek out at him. It was an orange eye, vivid, and it stared at him in alarm.

"Uh, hi!" Varian raised his hand in greeting. "Excuse me, I'm looking for the Crimson – "

The eye disappeared, the curtain tugged swiftly back into place.

" – Caster," Varian finished dryly, his hand wilting. He sighed. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to talk to you. You are the Crimson Caster, aren't you? Or is there another cabin in the middle of a cursed forest I should be looking for?"

Dead silence filled the air. Then, from the other side of the door, he heard a very small, very feminine voice. "How do you that name?" the voice asked.

Varian wondered if his ears had been warped by the strangeness of this place; he could almost swear it sounded like a very nervous, frightened girl. "Look," he tried again. "Is the Crimson Caster here or not?" When the voice on the other side didn't answer, he sighed again, sharply this time. "Listen, I've come a long way, and I…I could really use his help. Just, please tell me he's here."

Nothing.

Varian felt the urge to break the door down, but if the Crimson Caster was here, it probably wouldn't be the smartest thing to do. He felt anger and frustration well up inside his chest, and he tried to keep his breathing steady as he waved his hand at the door. "Fine," he exhaled. "I guess I'll just camp out here and wait until he gets back, or he finally decides to come out and face me instead of hiding like a coward."

"Wait," the voice said as he turned. Varian paused on the step, then felt his heart jump into his throat as he heard the door latch click open. The orange eye from the window reappeared, blinking once at him beneath a thin, creased eyebrow. "The Crimson Caster isn't here," the voice admitted so softly, Varian almost couldn't hear it.

Varian turned to face the door again. "Do you know when he'll be back?" he insisted.

Something shot out through the door, tumbling through Varian's legs. It was a hare, with long ears and giant feet, loping past Varian and out into the meadow. Suddenly the door flew open, and a girl with black hair and a terrified expression fell out into view. "Killy!" she called out, reaching in the direction the hare had run in.

The hare bounded back and began to sniff at Varian's boot, pawing curiously at the cuff. Rudiger jumped down from Varian's shoulder and gave the hare a surprisingly vicious snarl.

Varian heard the girl gasp, and she scooped the hare quickly into her arms. "Rudiger," Varian snapped, hoisting the racoon off the ground by the nape of his neck. He brought him to eye-level. "No. Sorry about that," he apologized sheepishly to the girl, who had shrunk back into the doorway. "He just gets a little overprotective, I guess."

But the girl didn't seem concerned with Rudiger's behavior anymore. "So strange," she whispered to the hare. "You don't usually like strangers." She looked up at Varian, then seemed to realize she had stepped outside. She reached for the door and closed it to a crack once more, staring at him with her orange eye.

Varian raised his eyebrows. "So," he said slowly, "I don't suppose you're going to answer my question? You know, about the Crimson Caster?"

He heard the girl give a deep breath. "Have a seat in the garden," she told him in that quiet voice. "Please. I'll be out in just a moment."

"Garden, what garden?" Varian whispered under his breath when the door closed. He set Rudiger on his shoulder once more and took a few cautious steps around the outside of the cabin. A rough, makeshift gate peeked out at him from around the corner, and he shrugged to himself as he stepped through it into a modest, but very plentiful, garden. Varian noticed plants and vegetables growing both in and out of season, as well as a tree he didn't recognize. He tiptoed carefully towards a rickety wood bench by the tree, his feet brushing purple blossoms and tendrils of silver rosemary. He sat down slowly, wary of the bench's unstable structure. When it seemed to hold his weight well enough, he relaxed and felt Rudiger climb down into his lap. "So, this wasn't what I expected," he admitted in a low voice, stroking the racoon's soft ears. He peered across the garden. "Is that a lithops? I thought those things were from across seas!" He observed a few more plants out loud, reciting alchemical potentials for each one. "That one's good for making lock acid, although I'd prefer to use raw…"

He trailed off when the girl appeared around the corner. Out in the open, he could see that she was about his age. She had a petite face, and her hair hung down over the side of her face, tied off over her shoulder. She wore a simple beige dress, a plaid apron, and a pair of worn, black slippers. She started to wring her hands, and she seemed to refuse to look directly at him. Varian waited almost an entire minute before she finally spoke. "The Crimson Caster's not here," she mumbled.

To his credit, Varian gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I got that. Where is he, then?"

The girl's face went red. "I don't know where she is."

Varian processed that for a moment. "She?"

The girl nodded.

"And you don't know where she is?"

The girl shook her head.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

Another shake.

Varian sighed, long and loud. "How long has she been gone, exactly?"

"Seven years," the girl whispered.

Varian's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry, seven years? Like, _years_ years? Eighty-four _months_ , years?"

The girl's hands switched from wringing themselves to wringing her apron. She nodded, distressed.

Varian made exaggerated motions with his head, making a point of taking in the surrounding area. "You're all alone?"

The girl's eye snapped to him then, and she inhaled sharply. It was answer enough. No wonder she was so apprehensive.

Varian held up a defensive hand. "Relax," he said sincerely. "I don't mean anything by it. I'm just trying to understand. So, what, she's your mother, then?"

The girl nodded slowly.

"Where's your dad?"

The girl said nothing. She didn't need to. Varian could feel the absence in the air. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "If I knew where to find her, then…" She forced her hands to stop fidgeting and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry," she apologized again. "But I can't help you."

Varian felt his face grow hard, and he tore his gaze away. He'd heard those words before and given up too easily. He wasn't going to give up this time. "Do you know where we can start looking?" he asked firmly.

The girl blinked. "I…What do you need my mother for?" she suddenly asked.

"I need her help," Varian answered.

"What sort of help?"

Varian ran a hand through his hair. He opened his bag and pulled out his father's map. "My dad's in trouble," he said through gritted teeth. He licked his lips, then held out the map for her to take. "I've already done what I can, and…everything I do only seems to make things worse. I've tried asking others for help, and no one can. Then I found this. It's how I found this place."

The girl took the map and gingerly unfolded it. Varian watched her eye dart back and forth, tracing the path he'd taken, reading the notes his father had scribbled. Her brow furrowed for an instant. Then her face widened with shock, and she gasped. She clutched the map to her chest, her expression paling until it was almost transparent.

Varian nearly leapt to his feet. "What, what is it?" he demanded.

The girl stood there, frozen. "Nothing," she said, louder than he'd heard her speak so far. She gave him a very long, nebulous look. "Nothing," she said again, her voice soft once more. She sighed shakily, and her shoulders fell back down. She brought the map back into view and spread it out on the ground for him to see. She knelt by it and pointed to the mark in the corner, the same mark that the map shared with Varian's father's trunk. "Do you know what this symbol means?"

Varian shook his head. "Do you?"

Disappointingly, the girl mirrored his head shake. "No. But I've seen it before."

"You have?!"

The girl nodded, looking up at him. "It's on the last page my mother wrote in her journal, before she…" She stood, rolling the map up. She seemed to be thinking long and hard about something. Varian waited, trying not to look too agitated. "Come inside," the girl finally said.


	6. Chapter Five: Unreasonable Explanations

**Rapunzel was** understandably shaken by the news, but she appeared more collected than Eugene thought she would be. She sat inside the carriage, her hands pressed over the message in her lap. Eugene could see the muscles in her neck were tight, and her eyes were wide and unblinking. But when she spoke, her voice was fairly calm.

"Eugene," she said. "There's nothing we can do about this now."

"I know," Eugene answered, his arms folded. A headache had started to throb in his left temple. "But I didn't want to keep this a secret from you. I mean, it's addressed to you, anyway. If the king wanted you to know, then I'm not about to keep it to myself."

"Thank you," Rapunzel said warmly. "I'm glad you told me, Eugene. I think you're right, though. I don't think Varian will come after us. He's already learned the hard way that I can't help him."

Eugene frowned. "Yeah, but it makes you wonder what else he's going to do."

Rapunzel sighed. She folded the letter and tapped her leg with it. "Whatever it is he has planned, I can only hope he doesn't hurt anyone else. I just…I know he was desperate. He wanted to help people, once. I can't shake the feeling that there's still a part of him that wants to make things right."

"Even if that is true, he goes about it the wrong way," Cassandra said from her spot in the corner. Her eyes peered out across the room in narrow slits. "Look, I want to believe that Varian has changed as much as the next person, but he doesn't demonstrate that very well when he escapes from prison!"

Eugene nodded reluctantly. "That is something Evil Varian would do."

Rapunzel winced. "Evil's such a strong word," she admitted aloud.

Cassandra coughed in disbelief. "A strong word?" She stepped towards the princess, gesturing with her hands. "Rapunzel, he threatened to kill your mother. He threatened to kill _you!_ I don't know what your definition of evil is, but that fits mine pretty well."

"I've seen evil," Rapunzel said, her expression growing dark and bitter. "It held me captive for eighteen years."

Cassandra opened her mouth to make a retort, then wisely chose to keep quiet.

Rapunzel stood, placing the letter up on the carriage's mantel. Her long braid of hair brushed the floor as she looked at her friends. "All Varian wants is his father back. That's a better excuse than Gothel ever had. Whatever it is he's planning, all we can do is hope that he won't cause any more trouble than he already has. And if he does…then I hope my dad can find him soon."

Eugene reached for her shoulders and pulled her close. "At least the king knows you're in good hands," he reminded her as he kissed her cheek. "Well, now that we've aired this out in the open like a wet sock, how about some lunch? I don't know about you, but talking about escaped convicts makes me mad thirsty!"

* * *

Upon entering the Crimson Caster's cabin, Varian was abruptly greeted by the sight of a floating knife in his face. He gave a startled yelp and threw his hands up to defend himself. Rudiger growled at it, vibrating threateningly on his shoulder.

The girl turned and gasped, snatching the knife by the handle. "Knife," she scolded the blade in a desperate hiss. "He is _not_ an intruder. He's a friend. Go on now." She released the knife and shooed it back to its home in a wooden block on the table. "I'm so sorry," she turned to face Varian. "My mother's cutlery is a little…sensitive."

"Right," Varian said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm not even going to ask how that's a thing." He slowly lowered his hands as he looked around the cabin. It was a small space with a long table set in front of a warm fireplace, flanked by shelves filled with books, scrolls, vials, flasks, and bottles of ingredients and contents Varian could only guess at. A padded rocking chair stood in the corner, hand-carved and dark-stained. The hare that had greeted him outside seemed to be sleeping on the chair cushion, its nose twitching as it dozed. The floor was swept clean, and a faded knit rug led to a short stairway to the second floor. Two glowing glass orbs hung from the ceiling, spilling rosy light over the girl's embarrassed face as she quickly closed a large book she had spread out on the table's surface. A cauldron the size of a pumpkin bubbled with a strange substance next to the book; Varian saw no flames beneath its cast iron belly, but he could smell something sweet from it, like honeysuckle.

"So," he started in what he hoped was an amicable tone. "I take it your mom's not a scientist."

The girl shook her head. "Did you want to sit down?" she offered shyly, pointing to a chair at the table. There were only two of them, one of which was hardly more than a stool. "I really am sorry about that," she apologized again. "I should have warned the house before letting you in."

Varian cocked an eyebrow and exchanged disbelieving looks with Rudiger as he chose the stool and sat with his elbows propped on the table's surface. "Warn the house? You sure you haven't been here by yourself for just a little too long?"

But the girl didn't seem to be paying attention. She had crossed over to a shelf on the right, running a thin finger across thick spines. She finally found the one she was looking for and carefully pulled it out. "On the table, last page," she said under her breath, and the book zoomed out of her hand, settling on the wood grain. Varian stared at the display, watching in awestruck wonder as the book unfurled its crinkling, yellow pages until it settled somewhere near the middle of its contents. The page on the left was written in what Varian recognized as Celtic script. The page on the right was empty, signifying the final entry. The girl coaxed the other, closed book through the air with a beckoning hand and placed it on the shelf before crossing slowly back over. "My mother wrote all her notes in her native language," she explained. "That wouldn't be a problem for me, but she also used some sort of code as well. I've tried to decipher it, but…"

"Let me see," Varian offered his hand. The girl looked uncertain, but she slid the book on the table towards him. He turned it to face him and studied the characters, muttering under his breath.

"You can read Celtic?" the girl asked, surprised.

Under normal circumstances, Varian might have taken the opportunity to boast the many languages he could read and write. Here, he only said, "Among others." His heart leapt when he noticed the same cryptic symbol as the one on his father's mysterious items in the corner; the girl had been telling the truth. He could feel Rudiger's furry ears tickle under his chin as the raccoon sniffed at the pages. "That's not too bad," Varian admitted aloud. "I mean, it's not a difficult cipher. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"House," the girl said. "Pen and paper, please."

Varian heard a clunk from the second floor, then watched as an inkwell, quill, and piece of parchment floated down the stairs. Varian couldn't hold it in anymore. "How are you doing that?" He asked incredulously.

The girl's shoulders slowly rose to her ears. "Magic?"

Varian reached for his temple, tapping it with his gloved fingers. "I hate to break it to you, sister, but I don't believe in magic. Magic is a copout word, an all-encompassing term to attempt to satisfy the demands of reasonable explanation. I'm a scientist, in case you can't tell, which means that I'm having just a little difficulty trying to understand how your household items are defying a very basic law of physics."

The girl's brow twitched into a perplexed frown. "If you don't believe in magic," she asked quietly, "then why are you here?"

Varian sighed sharply. "Because, for one thing, I thought your mother was like me." He reached for his bag and pulled out a few compounds for her to see. He also revealed his own collection of notes and formulas: leaflets bound and pinned together. "I don't work with magic. I didn't come here for parlor tricks and streetwise sleight-of-hand. I can find that on any corner of Corona. I came here to find a way to save my father."

The girl stared at his belongings, her orange eye unblinking. "What is this?" she dared to ask, pointing at a vial of pink substance.

"It's just a bioluminescent agent," Varian answered.

The girl turned and crossed to a shelf on the other side of the room. She opened a drawer near the bottom and pulled out a similar vial, filled with the very same pink liquid. She closed the drawer and brought it to Varian, placing it next to his on the table.

Varian stared at it. "May I?" he picked it up and examined the contents under his nose. He pulled out a small, microscopic eyeglass from his bag, pressed it to his eye, and focused it on the vial. "It's the same reaction," he wondered aloud. "So then…your mother _is_ an alchemist?"

The girl shook her head; her black hair still covered her right eye. "I made this. It's a stabilizing element for when I make energy draughts. If I don't use it, the draught becomes a poison. You've made the same element for a different purpose, but it's still the same."

Varian's right eye started to twitch. He realized he was leaning dangerously close to the table, and Rudiger squirmed out from under him. "Your trying to tell me that what I've been doing is making _magical_ components?"

"No," the girl said quickly, a hint of alarm to her voice. "No, it's not like that. What I'm trying to say is that…well…" She began to gnaw on her lower lip as she struggled to find the right words. "If alchemy can create one thing and magic can make the same thing, then is it so hard to believe that it's real?"

"But alchemy can't make things float in the air!" Varian exclaimed. "You can't just conveniently take something out that matches what I've made and expect it to answer how you're able to – seriously?!"

"Back," the girl told the knife that had reappeared in Varian's face. The knife retreated haltingly, as if reluctant to return to the block. The girl sighed shakily. "I-I can't explain it in words," she resigned anxiously. "I guess…you'll just have to take it on faith."

Varian glared at her. "Fine," he gritted out, sitting back. "Let's just see if I can decipher this." As he started scratching out things on the paper, he realized that the girl was just staring at him. "The name's Varian, by the way," he told her; considering how little it seemed she'd gotten out of the cabin, he took the gamble that she probably wouldn't recognize it. "You have a name?" he asked absently. He didn't hear anything for a moment and realized that the girl had nodded her head. "Do I get to know this name, or do you want me to just call you, 'girl'?"

"Oh," the girl stuttered. "It's Shay. My name is Shay."

"Pleasure." Varian felt a spark of insight light his brain. "That key seems to work." He flattened his hasty notes down and began to trace the Crimson Caster's entry with his finger. "It looks like your mother was searching for some kind of crypt. She tracked it down to someplace east of here. It doesn't look like she was planning on being gone for seven years – she says a week here, at most."

"That's what she told me before she left," Shay agreed breathlessly. "But she didn't tell me where she was going. I think I know what crypt she means, though. The door to it is sealed, it can't be opened."

Varian snapped his face up to look at her. His eyes were wild with anticipation. "Can you show me?" he asked. Rudiger sensed his excitement and leapt up onto the table, blinking at the symbol on the journal entry.

Shay looked uncertain. "Well, yes. But I told you, the door is sealed shut."

"Maybe you can't open it," Varian stood and swept his things back into his bag. "But I can."

"How?"

"I have my ways." He closed the Crimson Caster's journal and held it up. "Do you mind if I take this with me? She may have other notes I can use."

The girl's timid face became a frozen mask. She snatched the journal out of his hand. "My mother's book stays with me," she said, holding it to her chest. Her voice was still quiet, but there was an edge to it. She set the book down on her side of the table and stared up at him. "If you do manage to open that door...then I'm going into the crypt with you."

Varian made exaggerated motions with his head as he looked her up and down. "No offense, but you don't exactly look like someone who can fend for herself. This place could be dangerous."

Shay pursed her lips. "Isn't that what big, strong men like you are for?"

Varian couldn't decide whether to be flattered or whether to interpret her question as a snide shot. "All I'm saying is, I have myself to look after. If something happens, don't expect me to stick my neck out for you."

Shay's eye narrowed. "I won't," she said firmly.

Varian frowned, then slung his bag over his shoulder. "How far is it?"

"Half a day on foot," the girl answered. She snapped her fingers at her mother's journal, and it fizzled out of sight in a shimmer of crimson sparks as she made her way around the table. "Wait here," she told him as she climbed the stairs. She returned with a faded green cloak around her shoulders, and she snapped her fingers again at the fireplace. The flames immediately died as she turned to the hare on the rocking chair. "I'll be back, Killy," she whispered, stroking the hare's downy head. "Stay here. I won't be gone long, I promise."

Varian felt his nose wrinkle at the girl's words. He almost told her not to make promises she couldn't keep, but he decided it wouldn't be wise to alienate his guide. "After you," he said, gesturing to the door. Besides, she was probably right. This crypt was probably just a glorified cave, and the worst that could happen would be if Varian couldn't open the door. Of course, if that happened, then he would just have to make a door of his own. He'd made it this far.

He hadn't let a kingdom stand in his way. Stone walls would be no different.


	7. Chapter Six: The Sealed Door

**Queen Arianna started** awake in her chair; the book she had been reading fell from her fingers and tumbled onto the polished floor by her slippered feet. She blinked in surprise at her husband's endearing face, his hand perched lightly on her delicate shoulder. "Frederick!" She pressed a startled hand to her breast. "I'm sorry, I wasn't planning on dozing off like that."

"That's quite alright, dear," the king told her as he stooped to pick up her book. "It must not be a very engaging read."

"Oh, it is," the queen insisted, taking the book back with a grateful smile. She yawned widely, placing a fragile hand over her mouth. "It's just…" Her hand fell into her lap. "Well, you know I haven't been sleeping very well, lately."

"I noticed," Frederick nodded knowingly. "I'm sorry, I've been busier these past two weeks."

"Heaven's sake, what time is it?" Arianna noticed the afternoon sun outside the tall window and sighed, spreading her fingers over the book's embossed cover. "Time to wake up, clearly." Her thoughts caught up to her as she exhaled the last few cobwebs of sleep from her body. "Have we heard anything from her?" she asked suddenly.

Frederick's soft expression turned into a frown. The fiery sunlight lit the silver in his beard. "Not yet, but I'm sure she received the message."

The queen set her book on the end table beside her and stood to embrace her husband. "I'm scared, Fred," she admitted in a whisper.

"Don't worry, love," the king said, tucking her close as he kissed her hair. "No one will ever take you from me again."

"No," Arianna pulled back, staring up into his face. "I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about her. What if something's happened?" She ducked her head to hide the tears that had started to well in her eyes. "Fred, I just can't help but feel like it was a mistake, letting her go."

"I know, Arianna," the king took her shoulders and forced a gentle smile. "But you saw what happened when I tried to keep her here. After what happened in Old Corona, if I'd still insisted…" He shook his head. "She probably would have left, no matter what I'd said. She is a free spirit, our little flower."

"So, she is." The queen flicked a tear from her cheek. "I miss her."

"I do too, dear. If her returning after eighteen years has taught me anything, it's that she'll be alright. As for Quirin's boy, whatever he's up to…we will find him eventually, one way or another. But now is not the time for grim dwelling. We have a dinner to eat and western trade routes to discuss."

The queen actually smirked. "You sure know how to keep a girl entertained, Fred."

"I try."

* * *

It was nearly midnight by the time Varian and Shay reached the door to the crypt.

Varian still wasn't entirely certain how Shay managed to navigate their way through the Haderon Forest; she had no map, no compass, but even as the light of day faded, her pace didn't slow. She also didn't say a word for hours, leaving Varian pondering in silence as she led him down slopes riddled with knobby tree roots and over shallow streams filled with tiny minnows. As night fell, Varian found a decent branch and stripped it down before tying a few of his components to the end. They lit the way in soft colors, filtering faintly through the glass vials. Rudiger jumped off his shoulder and skittered into the dark, fallen viridian leaves crinkling as his tail brushed the ground.

All the while, Varian tried to think of a good conversation topic – if not to learn more about his guide, than at least to occupy their time. After wracking his brain, he finally came up with one of the most cliched questions he could think of.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

Shay paused in her steps, her cloak wrapped tightly around her as a chill breeze swept through the trees. "What?"

Varian wiped a few sweaty strands of dark hair out of his eyes. "You know, your favorite color? Red, blue, green…pink?"

Shay's orange eye blinked once. "I…I suppose I've never really thought about it," she admitted in her quiet voice. "I guess…blue. Like the myrtle flowers that grow in the valley."

Periwinkle. Varian ran the plant through his memory. "It's a good chemical constituent," he noted approvingly. "I used to synthesize a derivative to help my dad's blood pressure go down."

"That's right," Shay said, sounding mildly surprised. "I make a tonic for headaches with it. It's wonderful in tea."

Finally, she was talking to him. Encouraged, he walked further forward, holding his staff out to light their steps. "So," he continued. "Why exactly is your mom called the Crimson Caster?"

Shay started walking up an incline, hiking her skirt to keep from tripping. "I don't know the real reason, to be honest. She's been called that since before I was born. She has red hair, though, and her magic is red, so that's probably why." She turned to look at him. There was a hint of emotion in her face; she looked almost hopeful. "You can ask her when we find her. She loves when you ask questions."

"Good," Varian climbed after her. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and Rudiger reappeared out of the bushes. The racoon's cheeks were stuffed with berries. "Although, I really only have one." He extended his arm, and Rudiger scampered back up onto his shoulder. He could smell the wild fruit on the creature's breath. "My mother had red hair, too. At least, that's what my dad used to tell me." He could see the darkness start to ebb as they neared the end of the climb. "How much farther is this door?"

"Not far, now." Shay reached the top of the hill, and an open field spilled out before them. Varian felt his shoulders relax; he hadn't realized how anxious the forest had made him. Out in the open, he felt like he could finally take a breath of fresh air. The sky yawned above them, the dark expanse riddled with stars and crowned by a waxing moon. Varian stared up at the milky view and felt a small smile spread across his face. It was almost the harvest moon, a time Varian always enjoyed – it gave him the chance to spend more time with his father, tallying crops and discussing different ways to improve next year's profits. His smile faded when he realized that wouldn't be happening this year, and he sighed through his nose. Then he noticed that Shay was waiting for him at the bottom of the hill, and he jogged down to catch up, trying to shake the melancholy from his mind.

"Are you alright?" he heard Shay ask. It was the first question she'd asked him since they'd started.

Varian considered the words. He remembered the last time someone had asked him a question like that, in a palace hall with a black weight on his shoulders. Back then, he'd answered honestly and received a hollow, unfulfilled promise for his trouble. He sought no such reassurance from this girl, or anyone for that matter. "Who, me?" he said nonchalantly, as if she could have been asking anyone else. He squared his shoulders and forced a small, tight smile. "Couldn't be better. Let's go." He followed her through the brush, tall grass tickling his elbows and concealing rocks and divots. He nearly fell flat on his face at one point and actually reached for Shay's shoulder to steady himself. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized quickly when she shot him a look of alarm, quickly snatching his hand away. "This field has it out for me." Like everything and everyone else, it seemed. He looked to see what had caused him to almost face-plant and flinched, a lowery expression flashing across his features.

It was one of the black rocks.

Shay stopped and stared at it. "What is that?" She crouched next to it, tracing its form with her orange eye.

Varian gave her a surprised glance. "You mean you haven't seen these?"

Shay shook her head. "I don't leave the house very often." Varian could just make out her face as it turned pink. "As I'm sure you've been able to tell. I don't want to miss my mother, in case she comes back. People don't say much in Ghislain, the town that's south of the forest. I've never seen, or heard of, anything like this before." She extended a finger to brush the glassy rock; it started to thrum as she approached it.

"Don't!" Varian swept down and snatched her hand before she could touch it, and she gasped in surprise. "These rocks have abnormal properties," he hissed. "They're dangerous."

The girl gently tugged her fingers out of his grip. "How do you know that?" she asked haltingly.

"I…" Varian stood and pursed his lips. "I know that because…I've studied these rocks extensively. I've seen what they can do."

"And what can they do?"

"Bad things. They're unpredictable, and they can't be destroyed. It's better if you stay away from them." He gripped his staff tightly. "It's better if everyone does," he grumbled bitterly.

He waited for Shay to react, anticipating that she would disregard his warning. But instead, she stood and started wringing the fabric of her plaid apron. "But what are they?" she breathed. "Where do they come from?"

"I don't know," Varian answered. "If I knew, I would've gotten rid of them before now. Believe me, I've tried. Nothing works." _If I knew what did,_ he thought to himself, _then I wouldn't be here._

Shay looked worried. "I haven't seen any in the forest. I hope there won't be any in the crypt," she said, sounding concerned.

Varian gave a dry, heartless chuckle. "You and me both," he mused. "Let's keep going."

"Right. We're almost there," She led him to a foothill close by. A small dip in the ground sloped downward, and Shay indicated a narrow flight of stone stairs. Varian could barely see them; they were nearly hidden by dense, grassy overgrowth. Shay pointed, indicating a rocky crag behind an old willow tree, its long leaves shifting in the night air. Carved into the crag, peeking out through a thick blanket of vines, was a dark stone door. "There it is," she said. "According to legend, this is the Haderon Crypt. I've only been here once with my mother, a long time ago. She said the door couldn't be opened." Varian heard her swallow, and he watched her teeth begin to chew her lip. "She told me to stay away from it," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, she didn't tell me." Varian took the lead and made his way down the narrow steps, sliding his staff through the strap of the quiver behind his back as he approached the door. He felt Shay follow him, and they both stopped once they were a few feet away from the stone. Varian looked the sealed passage up and down, studying the rock. "No handles," he observed out loud. "Whoever sealed this place did it from the inside." That was a grim thought, unless there was some secret egress that only the sealer knew about. If that was the case, there would be no way of finding it, so the sealed door was still their best bet for getting inside. He reached out a hand and rubbed his fingers together before planting his palm on the stone face.

A flash of light caught his eye, and he jerked his head upward to see a mark on the door. He hadn't noticed it before, but the fact that it started glowing wasn't what made him freeze. It was the shape of the mark, a very familiar symbol carved into the stone, that made his breath catch in his throat. It was the same emblem that was carved into his father's trunk, the same symbol that was inked on the map that had led him here.

"It's the symbol from my mother's last journal entry!" Shay stared at the glowing mark, then looked at Varian. Her eye widened, and Varian could have sworn he saw a flash of red behind her hair.

"What?" Varian asked.

"Your hair," she said. "It's…"

Varian kept his hand on the door, using his free hand to grab a lock of his hair. He pulled it down into view, and his eyes popped. "That's impossible," he mouthed, staring at the strands as they started to glow an ethereal blue. "What the heck?!" He ripped his goggles off and yanked fistfuls down, gaping at the reaction. His scalp tingled, and his breath started picking up. He didn't even notice the doors crack open, the entrance slowly yawning wide. As it opened, the glow started to fade. "What was that?" He'd seen strange things happen before, reactions that he couldn't quite understand…but to him?

"You broke the seal on the door," Shay marveled. She reached to touch the open stone, smoothing her palm across the surface. "The magic is gone. But how?" She looked at Varian and realized he was still anxiously grabbing at his hair, using the reflection of his goggle lenses to scrutinize his appearance. The blue streak in his hair was still glowing. "You're not hurt, are you?"

But Varian didn't hear her; he was too busy panicking in his head. "What…" He licked his lips. "What just happened?"

"I don't know," Shay answered honestly. "I've only ever seen a reaction like that with…" She ducked her head, then took a deep breath. "You're sure that's never happened before?"

Varian exhaled shakily, then raked his hair back into place, snapping his goggles back around his head. "I'm pretty sure I would remember something like that," he exclaimed, trying not to sound too hysterical.

"You'd be surprised what you can forget," Shay mumbled, just loud enough for Varian to hear.

"I'm sorry," Varian said with a glare, "but on the planet where I'm from, bioluminescent follicle reactions are not common occurrences when you touch a door!"

Shay looked nearly as distressed now as he was. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Varian's expression softened. "I'm fine," He grumbled.

"Do you feel drained or fatigued?"

"No."

Shay sighed. "Well, you're not on fire. You're still human. You're not in pain, and you still remember who you are." She glanced at the open door. "You broke the seal," she repeated dazedly. "Just by touching it."

Varian knew she wasn't telling him everything. But then, he supposed he was no less guilty of that. Despite his confusion and complete lack of understanding, he decided to set the issue aside, for now at least. "If we're assuming that your mother actually made it into this place," he said, still studying the blue streak in his hair; the light emanating from it had finally dimmed, "how did she manage to get in if it was still sealed?"

"I'm not sure," Shay admitted; she gazed into the dark entrance and shivered. "It's something I'll have to ask her. When we find her, that is."

Varian could hear the unspoken question hanging in the air like a damp mildew: what if her mother wasn't actually here? It wasn't a question he wanted to ask any more than Shay seemed to; it wasn't a question he wanted to answer. He brought his staff forward again, the colors swallowed by the darkness ahead. "Are you ready?" he asked. Rudiger shifted uncomfortably on his shoulder.

Shay looked hesitant; it was clear this was the last thing she was expecting to do when she'd woken up that morning. He could tell she was scared, but she slowly nodded, her hands curling into fists.

With his scalp still tingling, Varian gritted his teeth and steeled his nerves before setting foot into the crypt, bidding the outside world behind him a reluctant farewell. Providence willing, he would reemerge with the answers he needed.

If he didn't end up dead by the end of the night.


	8. Chapter Seven: Crypt of the Necromancer

**In the small** river town of Ghislain, a man named Caius awoke when he felt the ward over the Haderon Forest shatter into a million pieces.

He rose from his restless slumber and stepped out of the shack some old woman had let him stay in. He was a stocky man in his forties, with broad shoulders and a square, chiseled jaw. He looked older than he really was; his hair was grey, and lines creased the skin of his face. He was blind in one eye, a long, dark scar running over it like a trench, stretching from his hairline to his jaw. His other eye was perfectly functional, and he trained it down the road leading out of town. Across the river, he could just make out the trees, shimmering leaves fluttering in the evening breeze. His brow creased as he unsheathed the blade that was strapped to his back. It was a broadsword, simple in craftsmanship, nearly as long as he was tall, with an edge he made sure to keep razer-sharp at all times. He hefted it easily in one hand and pointed it in the direction of the forest, staring at the dark metal. In the presence of the Haderon Forest, this sword had always reacted to its ethereal magic by burning hot in his palm. Now, his hand remained blistering cold.

A smile stretched his lips to terrifying lengths, his teeth a white stripe of sinister joy as he sheathed his sword and returned to the shack. He reemerged with his breastplate and pauldron equipped. He carried little else; he didn't need to.

"Oi!" He heard an grisly fisherman call from the dock as he neared the river. The man wiped a spot of liverwurst from the corner of his bearded mouth, his other hand clutching the worn handle of a fishing rod. "Out for an evening stroll, old boy?"

Caius looked from the old man to the forest in the distance. "I'm going to see my family," he told him. A frozen fire lit his expression. "It would seem I've finally been invited."

888

The dark wasn't something Varian was afraid of. He hated the sight of blood, and nothing had traumatized him more than the sight of his father encased in amber, frozen in time, unable to move. But he'd never been afraid of the dark. He had never been one of those children who needed the door kept open ajar at night, and he'd never fled to his father's room (though that was more because his father's room was off-limits than anything else). The dark of this crypt was different, though; it was almost palpable, dank and cold on his skin, filling his lungs with an uncertainty and causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end.

"Well, uh, this place is festive," he said with forced levity as he felt his way down the stairs. He could feel Rudiger trembling with fear on his shoulder. He kept his free hand on the wall, his other hand extending the light of his staff into the crypt's ominous depths. "I don't suppose your mom has any notes or a map or something we could use in this place?"

"No," Shay answered firmly. "I've read my mother's journal countless times now. There's no map, and the only mention of the crypt was the one you found."

Varian stopped on the steps. Blue light from his staff spread over his face, mingling with the color of his eyes. "Can I see?" he asked.

Shay shook her head.

"Oh, come on," he insisted.

But Shay stood firm. "There are things in this book that even I shouldn't have read. Things that I wish I hadn't read. Private things. My mother poured her heart into these pages." She snapped her fingers, and the book fell out of the air in a flash, settling into her hands. She held it close to her, a melancholy expression on her pale face. "There's pain here, a terrible agony I'd only suspected she had."

Varian pursed his lips. "Can we at least look at the last entry again? There may be something I missed."

Shay thought about it for a moment. "Alright," she conceded, and she opened the book to the last written page. She held it out for him to see, but she didn't give it to him.

He stepped close and searched the words with his finger, Rudiger peering out over the collar of his coat. He could hear Shay breathing in the space between them, and he could feel her staring at him as he concentrated on her mother's writing. When he couldn't find anything, he propped his staff against the wall and took one of his gloves off. He fingered the tooth of the page, then bent over to sniff the paper. It smelled musty and yellowed, but he could just make out a note of lemon. He smiled; maybe the Crimson Caster wasn't so different after all. "Clever," he muttered to himself as he reached into his bag and extracted two vials. One was small and filled with a violet substance, and the other was a milky white. He took the violet vial and added a few drops of it to the white vial, then closed it and slipped it back into his bag. He shook the white vial in his hand, mixing the compounds together until it started to glow a bright purple.

"What are you doing?" Shay whispered.

"Just watch," Varian demonstrated, holding the corked vial close to the page. The purple light spilled over the blank footer, and an entire paragraph of words bled into view. "Your mom is sneaky," he praised aloud, reading the hidden entry. "It's written in Latin this time."

Shay's eye was wide in the darkness. "It must be a spell! What does it say?"

Varian peered closer. "It says, ' _Per lux septem sororibus…_ By the light of the Seven Sisters, I invoke the seal of ages.'" He glanced up at her. "Sounds like Pleiades, the constellation. Does that mean anything to you?"

Shay suddenly looked grim. "Yes. Seven is a powerful number in magic. It has to do with raw energy. It's dangerous to call upon the Seven Sisters. It's a power that's very difficult to control. In the past, blood mages would abuse the Seven Sisters' magic and invoke it for their sacrificial rituals."

Varian's eyebrow twitched at the mention of 'sacrificial rituals.' He stepped back from the book and frowned. "If she was trying to seal something with blood magic-"

"Not blood magic," Shay interrupted, frowning sharply. "It's _supposed_ to be used in very powerful spells. I only said blood mages would abuse the invocation."

"Alright," Varian said defensively.

Shay snapped the book shut and dismissed it into the air. Varian could have sworn he saw the flash of red behind her hair again. "My mother is no blood mage," she insisted firmly.

"I didn't say she was," Varian said quietly. The last thing he needed was to make everybody upset. He wasn't afraid of Shay, but he didn't want her to do anything reckless, either. After a few heated seconds, Shay's face softened, and she became passive again. "So," Varian continued as he put the vial away and retrieved his staff, "she used this incantation in a spell for a seal." It dawned on him suddenly, like he'd just been slapped in the face. He inhaled sharply. "A seal would mean…that seal on the door wasn't…She figured out a way to break the seal that was on the door before we came here, then placed a seal on the door herself!"

Shay considered it. "I…I suppose it…" Her jaw went slack. "I have an idea," she offered. "I've tried this before, but it never worked. Maybe now it will."

Varian shrugged. "Try what?"

She extended her hand out into the black air and traced a circle with her finger. She spoke a handful of Latin, and the invisible circle she'd drawn flared to life, red and shimmering. Characters wrote themselves within the circle, then began to peter out, like dying embers in a cold fireplace. Then Varian jumped as the light snapped into an otherworldly thread, and Shay quickly grabbed the end of it before it could disappear. The end of the string disappeared into the shadows, leading forward into the crypt.

"So," Varian stared as she tied the glowing string around her palm, "you mind explaining what you just did?"

Shay held up the string. "This," she said, her hand shaking, "will lead us to my mother. It's the first spell she ever taught me, so that I could always find her if I ever got lost." She started carefully down the stairs, Varian trudging slowly after her. "It was the first spell I used to try to find her, and it's never worked…until now." She swallowed. "For a long time, I was afraid it wasn't working because…"

"Because she could've been dead?"

Shay stopped again and turned to look at him. "Yes. But then, you considered it too, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah," Varian stepped onto the same stair as her. "But if there was a chance she was still alive, then it was a chance I had to take." _I would do anything to save my father._ He gestured to the string tied around her hand. "And it looks like she is. I mean, this wouldn't work if she was dead, right?"

Shay gazed at the ethereal red strand, and Varian could just make out her eye as it began to water. "Right," she whispered. "It must not have worked before because of the seal on the door." She clutched her hand tightly and started walking down the stairs again. "Thank you," Varian heard her say.

Varian frowned. "For what?"

"Because of you, now I know she's alive," Shay explained. "And that she's here." She sounded calm, but then Varian heard her sniff wetly. "You don't know how much that means to me."

Varian coughed uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, uh…don't thank me just yet. I mean, we still haven't found her, so…Le-let's just keep moving." He was glad she was in front of him, so she couldn't see how red his face was. "I don't like this place." He took the last step of the stairs and saw a wide corridor open before them, pillars flanking both sides. He couldn't see the ceiling, let alone five feet in front of them. "You see any torches anywhere that we could light?"

"Here," Shay beckoned towards his staff. He held it out, and she snapped her fingers three times. Each snap caused the glow from the vials to burst into brightness, blossoming colors spreading light into the corridor.

Varian brought the staff back, peering at the vials. "I still don't know how you're doing that," he breathed.

"I told you," Shay said gently. "Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it isn't real."

"That doesn't explain how you're doing it, though," Varian muttered under his breath. Rudiger jumped down from his shoulder and darted over towards one of the walls. "Rudiger, don't go too far! We don't know what's down here." He followed the racoon past the pillars, and the amplified light of his staff illuminated something that gave him pause. It was a relief, carved meticulously into the stone, images fresh and polished smooth. The detail was so in-depth, Varian half-expected the depicted scene to come to life. It looked like the tale of a battle, a gruesome scene filled with swords and spears, arrows and broken shields, horses dying in the mud, helmets strewn on the battlefield – soldiers standing their ground against an army of the arcane. Mages commanded fire and ice, wielding the very earth against their foes, their eyes wide and unblinking as legions of the undead were unleashed upon their enemies. It was terrifying, and it chilled Varian to the bone.

"That's not something that will haunt me later," he said when he remembered to breathe. He felt Shay at his shoulder and tore his eyes away from the relief. "Looks like whoever was buried here had something to do with this."

"It could be symbolic," Shay suggested, though she sounded doubtful. "To be honest, I'm not sure who was buried here. Some say an army was interred, others say no one was."

"I doubt that," Varian turned away, walking further down the corridor. "This place was built for a reason. The craftsmanship alone is evidence of that."

Shay tailed behind. "You don't think there could be traps down here, do you?"

Varian chuckled and gave her a smirk. "Oh, there are definitely traps down here."

"How do you know?"

Varian stopped and pointed his staff at a spot on the floor before him. It was a pressure plate, barely noticeable in the dark. "If I had to hazard a guess," he looked around, "stepping on that will either cause the floor to collapse beneath us, or it'll release a restraint on one of these pillars and destroy this entire corridor."

Shay gaped at it. "Okay," she said weakly.

Varian stepped carefully around the plate. "Let's not find out which, okay?" Shay and Rudiger followed him out of the corridor and down a narrow hall. "Hey, look! Torches," Varian observed jovially. "And I bet you one of them's boobied. Lucky for us, we don't need them." He kept moving forward, ignoring the torches as he shifted his feet cautiously over the stone floor.

"You've had experience in a place like this before," Shay observed, "haven't you?"

"We-yeah-uh," Varian said quickly, "I-I read a lot. About stuff like this."

"You read about breaking into crypts?"

"Yep." Varian glanced over his shoulder at her. "Of course, not all crypts are the same, and it would obviously be easier if we had a map of some ki-OH MY-!"

He cried out when he stepped forward into open air, and he surged out over the lip of a massive divide; he hadn't noticed the hallway ended so abruptly into emptiness. He heard Rudiger scream, and he felt quick hands latch onto the back of his coat, yanking him backwards before he could plummet to this death. He fell hard on his rear, the impact jarring his entire body as he scrambled backwards, bumping into a panicked Shay. His staff clattered to the floor, the glass vials dangerously close to breaking. They sat there on the ground, waiting for the adrenaline to subside. Rudiger crawled into his lap, sniffing and pawing at Varian's heaving chest. Then Varian carefully stood, his legs still wobbling as he leaned against the wall. The stone was cold to the touch, seeping through his coat into his skin. He looked down at Shay, who was still shocked on the floor, and he offered her his hand.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Shay nodded; she looked numb, like she had been the one falling instead of him. She took his outstretched hand with trembling fingers, and he hefted her onto her feet. She didn't say a word.

He took a more careful approach to the end of the hall and realized that it opened out onto a narrow shelf that skirted around the wide crevasse; Varian could see Shay's magic thread drifting across it. He steeled himself before cautiously slipping out onto the ledge. "Let's try this again," he said, trying to sound confident. He hugged the wall and started moving forward, telling himself over and over not to look down. He glanced over and saw Rudiger and Shay follow; the racoon was having an easier time, but Shay looked just as daunted as Varian felt. They inched their way across, praying with each footstep that they wouldn't fall. Shay's foot slipped once, causing her to cry out and freeze. Varian's heart lodged in his throat before she regained her footing and shakily pressed on. Even though they'd just met, the last thing Varian wanted was to see the girl fall to her death. He wouldn't sleep for weeks.

They finally made it to an opening in the wall, and Varian fell into another corridor, clutching his staff. "You alright?" he asked Shay, who nodded feebly. The magic string was still tied around her palm, and she held onto it tightly as she followed him down another flight of stairs. These steps spiraled, descending further into the belly of the crypt. Varian kept a close eye out for more traps, one of which he missed. It was a false step that caused the entire staircase to begin to crumble. They surged forward, and both of them lost their footing, tumbling head-over-heels to the bottom of the stairwell. Shay fell onto the last step as it crumbled to pieces beneath her, and she clung on to the flooring, her eyes wild with fear as she dangled above the abyssal dark. With her hair flung out of her petrified face, Varian could see that her right iris was red, and he could just barely make out the shadow of a dilated, terrified pupil. He quickly hauled her up before she could fall and waited for her to catch her breath. "Not that I was keeping track, but I think we're even now."

Shay looked near tears. Varian was under the impression that this was an off-day for her; he doubted that dangling from a deadly precipice happened to her very often. "How are we –" she coughed once, her small voice wobbling, "How are we going to get out now?"

"There's probably another passage," Varian reassured her, helping her onto her feet again. "You know, for whoever built this place. It wouldn't be very practical to have only one entrance to make all of this."

Shay nodded shakily. "You're right. I'm sure there is." She realized how disheveled her hair was, and she quickly raked it back into place, concealing her eye once more. "I hope we don't have much further."

Varian reached out for the string that was tied to her hand and fingered the ethereal thread. It felt warm to the touch, like a candle flame. "Can't this tell you if we're any closer? Does it have slack or anything?"

Shay shook her head. "I've tried tugging. She won't tug back. It scares me," she admitted. "This whole place scares me."

She certainly looked scared; Varian was sure he didn't look much better. The alternate passageway out was only a theory; since it was a sealed crypt, it was possible that whoever built the place had been buried down here along with everything and everyone else. On top of that, he wasn't sure how long they had been down here. It could have been an hour or it could have been a day. Rudiger circled agitatedly around his feet, his eyes flashing in and out of the staff's light. He would have loved to rely on what he knew about crypt layouts, but it had since become obvious to him that this was no ordinary crypt.

"Let's keep moving," he urged Shay forward. "The sooner we get going, the sooner we find your mom and can get out of here." As they continued down the next corridor, he decided to try to make small-talk again, to try and get his mind off of what they were doing. "So, Shay, have you ever, uh, been to the capitol?"

Shay took a moment to answer. "No," she answered in her quiet voice. "But I've heard it's a beautiful place."

"Yeah, it is." At least, it was when you weren't trying to escape from prison or attempting to ransom the queen. "I know you haven't been out much, but you do know that the princess was found, right?"

"Yes," Shay answered. "Even people in Ghislain spoke of that. I've heard she's lovely."

 _She was alright,_ Varian supposed, when _she wasn't making promises she couldn't keep and deliberately ignoring your pleas for help._ Varian realized how tense he had become and thought it best to change the subject. "Your mom writes in Celtic. I assume that means she's not from Corona?"

Shay shook her head. "She was born in Ireland, across seas. She was brought on board a ship, to be sold as a slave when she was a child. She escaped and found her way here. All she had was a spellbook, the one I was looking at when you came. I've been trying to learn all the different recipes she has in there. She came up with a lot of them herself."

Varian stared at her, wide-eyed. "Your mom was shipped off to be a slave? That's quite the bedtime story, don't you think?" He watched Shay's face burn and nodded knowingly. "You were right. Maybe there were some things in that journal you shouldn't have read." He helped her step over another pressure plate, noting dart holes in the wall as they passed. "My dad kept – _keeps_ secrets from me too."

"Your father," Shay dared to ask. "May I ask what –"

"No," Varian answered harshly enough to make her jump. "Sorry," he said more gently. "It's better that you don't know. It's not you, it's just that…It's not something I like to talk about." His thoughts trailed off when they finally entered a large chamber, similar to the corridor with the sculpted relief, but much bigger. The chamber was circular, like a chapel apse, with large fluted pillars ringing the filed floor before them. As Varian took a step forward, a series of torches flared to life, bathing the chamber in a band of orange flames. Since Varian couldn't think of a scientific explanation for the sudden reaction, he assumed the lit torches were magic. The ambulatory of the chamber housed several sarcophagi, each sealed with marble stone lids. Judging by the material and relative size, Varian estimated that each lid was at least half a ton. At the center of the chamber was a monument carved from obsidian, the black glass carefully sculpted into the image of a hooded, robed man, with a medallion draped heavily across his neck. The man's gloved hand was outstretched, his arm casting a shadow over the largest casket of all.

"It's beautiful," Shay marveled, standing at Varian's shoulder.

"To make a place like this so deep underground," Varian wondered, shaking his head dazedly. "The effort it must have taken is…extraordinary." He remembered to keep an eye out for traps and glanced quickly about for tripwires or pressure plates. He didn't see any, but he did notice a series of gutters around the wide, domed ceiling. "We're not out of the woods yet," he cautioned his companions, gesturing to the gutters. "Those are probably rigged to something."

Shay nodded. The message was clear: look, but don't touch.

"Keep your eyes out for anything suspicious." Varian tucked his staff away, leaving both hands free. "Let's see if we can find any clues about your mom." He took the left side of the chamber, and Shay went right. Varian kept in mind that there were probably some things about this place that he couldn't see; it was possible that whatever could trigger the gutters might be magical. Varian was more concerned with what they could expel more than anything else – water was his first guess, but it could also be anything from acid to a gas to sand, or something else he couldn't think of. As he checked the walls of the chamber, he took note of where he stepped, what he smelled, what he could hear, and what he could feel. As he made his way towards the other side of the chamber, he spotted something that made his heart beat twice as fast: a steel door with an ornate handle and a keyhole. He approached it cautiously, touching the wall rather than the door itself as he brought his face close to the crack.

He could feel a draft.

"Hey," he called out to Shay over his shoulder, "I think I might have just found our way out of here. I think it's locked though, so we'll have to find the key."

"Varian," he heard her say. He looked over at where she was and saw that she had approached the sarcophagus in the center of the chamber. Rudiger had somehow managed to climb on top of the obsidian statue, sniffing the volcanic glass with his black nose. Shay didn't seem to be paying attention to the racoon, though; her gaze was fixed on the casket before her. Varian came over to look at it and saw an inscription at the base, carved deeply enough that if stone could bleed, it would be soaking his boots. It was written in Corona's common language, clear and legible. Varian read it aloud:

"Here lies Haderon, Necromancer and Advisor to Magekind, Sealed for All Eternity with the Unholy Powers he Wielded. May the Wisdom and Terror of his Days Remain Buried here for All Time." Varian took a step back, staring up at the statue of the dead mage. "That's lovely. Haderon. So, the forest – this crypt – was named after him?"

Shay nodded, tugging her cloak around her so tightly, Varian heard a seam pop. "I always thought Haderon was just a myth, a story my mother would tell me to keep me from going to places where I shouldn't…I never thought he was actually real."

"Necromancer," Varian breathed. "He raised the dead?" The idea was ludicrous, but Varian had seen enough things just today to make him wonder. He remembered the mural they'd seen in the first corridor. "He used an army of undead to fight Corona?"

"I don't know," Shay admitted hollowly. "It could have been Corona, it could have been any army from the Seven Kingdoms. It could have been an ambition, an unrealized dream of his that never came to be." She stepped back from the casket, her expression a mask of worry. "This place houses a great, evil magic."

Rudiger made a tittering sound, unsure how to get down from his perch. Varian approached the statue and pulled the racoon down by the nape of his neck. "Did your mom know about this?" he asked as he set the animal on his shoulder. "Why would she come down here if a necromancer was buried here?"

Shay seemed to think about it for a few moments. It came to her slowly, and Varian watched her face change from worry to sadness. "I think I know why," she said bitterly. "I just hope I'm wrong. Oh, please let me be wrong." She held her hand up, the one with the magic string. Varian could see the thread trail towards the sarcophagus before them.

Varian stared at the lid. "No way," he said. "There's no way she's in there. She would be dead, it's airtight!" As if being trapped in a tomb with the bones of a dead necromancer wasn't horrifying enough.

"She is still alive," Shay asserted desperately. "She could have used a time spell. It's complicated magic, but she could do it. We have to get her out."

Varian frowned. "If there's one thing booby-trapped in this place, it's this coffin. Besides, there's no way we can move it." He liked to think of himself as a little less than scrawny, but not even his father could push a half-ton of stone. "Unless you have some way of opening it."

Shay conjured her mother's journal and leafed through the pages, searching for something. Her finger lighted on a passage, and her eye narrowed with determination. "This might work, but there's a ward on the casket. If I try to cast a spell, it might cause…"

"What?" Varian pressed. "What, it might cause what?"

"I don't know," Shay bit her lip; Varian noticed she did that often. "But I'm not leaving without her."

Varian sighed sharply. Under any other circumstance, he would have told her to let it alone…but he needed the Crimson Caster just as much as she did. For his father. "Fine," he conceded. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

He stood back as Shay began a series of intricate hand movements, her fingers tracing figures in the air above the casket. She spoke a few quick phrases, and a crimson band appeared around the sarcophagus, multiplying in a series of rings that pulsed with light. Shay spoke a command, lashing her arm upwards, and Varian watched as the red rings began to vibrate with energy. He was under the impression that something should have happened to the lid by now, but it remained firmly unmoved. A bead of sweat slid down Shay's temple, and she grimaced as she tried harder, her voice sharper as she repeated the command.

"Shay," Varian said warningly.

But Shay ignored him. As the spell continued to prove ineffective, she became more and more frustrated. She dismissed her mother's journal and reached out with both hands, and Varian could have sworn he saw a flicker of red arc through her hair. Her arms were shaking, and he could see her red eye start to glow white as her orange eye turned red instead.

Varian felt his skin crawl, a base, primitive instinct that told him to stop this. "Shay, that's enough!" He lurched forward and grabbed her by the waist, jerking her backwards. She was lighter than he'd expected, and she actually left the ground as he interrupted the spell. A blast of force knocked them backwards as the spell's energy rebounded, and Rudiger leapt from Varian's shoulder as they spilled out onto the floor. As they did, a flash of imagery flickered across his vision, like a series of watercolor paintings flung in front of his face all at once. He saw a stream, a tree, heard a little girl's laugh, saw his reflection in a window. He couldn't understand any of it, but the images brought with them a sense of nostalgia, a familiarity that Varian couldn't describe.

Shay squirmed, trying to break out of Varian's grip. "Let go of me!" she gasped, her strained voice echoing through the chamber. She reached her hand out towards the casket. "I can try again!"

"It won't work, Shay," Varian held fast, hauling her up with him as he struggled to his feet. She nearly knocked him back over as she continued to struggle. "You'll only hurt yourself. We'll have to find another way!"

"I can do it! I can try another spell!"

"No, you can't!" Varian retorted, whipping her around to face him. He shook her by the shoulders, his blue eyes wide and frantic. "I need you to help us get out of here, not pass out and become dead weight. We'll come back and try again after we make sure we can get out of this place alive. _Not_ before. Alright?!"

"But…" Tears filled Shay's eyes, and she shook her head helplessly. The nostalgic feeling resurfaced for an instant, like a sputtering flame as he watched her face crumple. "She's right there. I can't just give up! Do you know what it's like, to be so close?!"

"Yes!" Varian shouted. He felt Shay flinch, and he realized that his grip was hurting her. He let her go and stumbled away. His entire body was shaking, and his skin had become clammy. He tried to fight the anxiety, the pain. He mashed one palm into his eye, and his other arm curled around his stomach. His father's face seared his mind. "Yes, I do," he whispered. He took a deep, clarifying breath, and his hands fell back to his sides. He looked up at her and set his jaw. "And I had to learn the hard way that you can't find the answer on your own."

Shay pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. Varian felt like he was looking in a mirror. It hurt to watch. But Shay suddenly stopped, her eyes wide with fear. Her hand left her face to point behind him. "Varian," she warned haltingly, her chest hitching with hiccups.

Varian whipped around and saw what she was pointing at. It made his blood freeze, and all thoughts of his father immediately fled his mind.

The other caskets were opening, the lids sliding off. They fell to the ground in a series of solid blows, echoing through the chamber like thunder as skeletal hands emerged from their dead slumber. Varian watched in horror as they turned to look at the chamber's intruders, and they started to crawl their way out into the open. Each skeleton wore a suit of armor, the hollow sockets of their skulls glowing with eerie white light. They were all armed with swords, which they unsheathed and pointed menacingly in his direction.

Varian swallowed. "Oh."


	9. Chapter Eight: Down Come the Rain

**Rudiger fled behind** Varian's leg, cowering as his master quickly wrenched the bow off his back. "Shay!" he barked over his shoulder as he grabbed an arrow and started frisking the contents of his bag. "Our stay here's worn out! We need to find a way to open that door on the other side of the chamber - it's the only way out of here!" He found the compound he was looking for and used a piece of twine to hastily tie the vial to the arrow's shaft. "Do you have any ideas?!"

Shay furiously wiped her face clean and turned to make her way towards the door. She stopped with a yelp when she saw more skeletons blocking her way.

Varian turned in her direction and drew back; adrenaline fueled his strength, and the drawstring pulled back easily. "Duck!" he called, and Shay buckled her knees as he aimed and fired at the skeletons that barred the door. Varian knew it wasn't exactly the best time to brag, but his aim was incredibly accurate. The arrow shot through the chill air and struck cleanly through one of the skeleton's eye sockets. The impact catalyzed the compound, the kinetic energy triggering the reaction, and a rosy explosion bloomed, shattering the skeleton and sending a few others flying. Varian saw Shay shield her face with her arm, and he noted the pillars shivering dangerously as he reached to nock another arrow. "Go!" he hollered, his voice cracking as he turned back around to face the other skeletons. "I'll buy you time!"

Shay scrambled back to her feet and sprinted forward, losing a shoe as she slammed into the door. She studied the lock for a moment, wincing when she heard another explosion across the chamber. "There's another ward on the door!" she yelled, her high voice carrying through the chamber like a broken bell.

"Then find the key!" Varian shouted as he groped for one of his sticky bombs and hurled it at a skeleton trying to flank him; the pink substance splattered in a wide sheet across the ground, catching a few of the monstrosities off-guard as they stumbled and strained against the arresting trap. It wasn't enough to stop the others from reaching dangerously close to Varian; one swung its broadsword in his direction, the wicked blade shrieking through the air. Varian dropped and heard the sword strike the sarcophagus behind him, biting at the marble stone. He shot his foot out and knocked the skeleton to its knees before raising his bow to block a blow from another undead soldier. There was a flash of grey fur, and Rudiger was on the soldier's head, wrenching savagely at the skeleton's helmet until it fell backwards, giving Varian a chance to regain his feet.

As he stood, he felt something push him from behind, like he'd just been punched, and his left shoulder went numb. He stumbled and whirled around to see that one of the skeletons had produced its own bow, the drawstring still vibrating from the arrow's release. Varian tried to reach for another sticky bomb, but his arm refused to respond. He looked at his shoulder and saw why: there was an arrowhead protruding through his jacket, his own blood coating the vicious, barbed tip. His eyes popped open wide, and he stopped breathing, his mouth falling open as he realized with morbid fascination that he'd been shot. The world seemed to stop, and all sound hushed to silence in his ears. His father's bow fell from his trembling hands, and he stood there, dumbfounded and stunned.

Something was tugging at his bag. He felt a cold nose sniff his hand, then dig some more through his things. The sound of glass shattering caused everything to come rumbling back to his senses, and pain erupted in his brain like a battering ram, blossoming like an angry lightning bolt from his left fingertips to the base of his neck. He crumpled to his knees and watched in a haze as more skeletons closed in on him, their skinless grins looming over him like a series of jagged crescent moons. Something syrupy soaked his pantleg, and he managed to focus enough on the sensation to see that Rudiger had filched the chimera serum from his bag. The serum had spilled from the broken vial, and Rudiger was quickly lapping up the solution like a rabid dog. He vaguely heard someone scream his name, then fell over on his side as his racoon exploded into a massive, hot-blooded, extremely violent behemoth. Rudiger seemed to fill half the chamber, and he unleashed a savage, blood-curdling roar that informed everyone and everything that he was very, very angry. He began rampaging around the chamber, snarling and snapping with a fury Varian had never seen before.

By the time Rudiger had succeeded in transforming, Shay had managed to break the ward on the door. Unfortunately, breaking the ward triggered the gutters above to begin pouring water into the chamber. Shay looked up through her hair in alarm and quickly cast a configuring spell on the lock. An ethereal tumbler appeared before her, and she started lining everything up, her trembling fingers flicking the ghostly gears into place. There was a click, and the door yawned open as she scrambled to grab her shoe and tug it back on. She then rushed over to Varian's side, struggling to push him back upright. Varian was barely responsive, but he managed to help her drape his arm over her shoulders.

"What happened to him?!" Shay exclaimed as Rudiger pounced back and forth, chewing on skeleton bones and lashing wickedly at their suits of armor. She snatched his bow and slung it over her own back.

Swimming in and out of consciousness, Varian slumped forward. "He's – it's a serum, he's fine." He felt, more than saw, the pillars around them tremble in the wake of Rudiger's rampage, and he felt water begin to wash towards them. "Did you get the door open?"

"Yes, I did," Shay pleaded, grabbing him before he could fall over again.

"Go without me," he managed to get out. "I'll only slow you down."

Shay ignored his ridiculous request and dragged him to his feet, causing him to howl between his teeth and snap temporarily out of his painful stupor. She pulled him along, trying to get him moving. They stopped when a skeleton limped into their path, its hollow sockets wide and filled with burning rage. Shay flung her hand forward and hastily drew a character in the air, rattling off a livid incantation. A red enchanter's circle appeared, and a plume of fire engulfed the undead soldier. It crumbled to the ground, smoldering into a pile of dusty armor and ashes as Varian and Shay fled to the door.

"Rudiger!" Varian shouted over his injured shoulder. "Come on, we're getting out of here!"

Rudiger gave one more bone-shaking growl and broke off the attack. He lumbered over towards them and balked when he saw the door, sniffing and scuffling anxiously when he realized he wouldn't fit. Varian tried reaching for his bag, but the pain in his shoulder was too intense. "I have an anti-serum that can turn him back!" he told Shay through a wave of agony. "It's the vial labeled 'P2640'. It's white!"

Shay opened the flap of the bag and recited the anti-serum's number. It leapt into her palm, and she turned to face Rudiger's gaping maw. "How much?!" she shouted as the water levels reached the hem of her skirt.

"Just a drop!" Varian leaned against the wall, trying to steady his breathing as Shay administered the solution over Rudiger's lolling tongue. They watched him swallow, then whine as he transformed back in a flash of light. Shay reached for Varian again, tugging him up the stairs beyond the door. The moment they crossed the threshold, Haderon's burial chamber went completely black, and Shay shoved the door closed with an almost deafening crash. She slapped her hand on the door and cast her own ward, sealing it shut with a few rushed, tense words. The sound of the chamber filling with water pounded against the other side, like an irregular heartbeat.

"Varian," she gasped as she helped him climb the stone steps, "how are we going to –"

"We'll worry about that later," Varian winced, the light from his staff nearly smothered by the darkness. "I have other things on my mind right now." He heard something snap, and he looked down to see that they had triggered a tripwire. "Like that!" he hollered as a massive, spiked beam fell from the shadows above, swinging a wall of death in their direction. "Get down!" They slammed into the stairs, narrowly avoiding the deathtrap. Varian nearly blacked out as the arrow in his shoulder shook from the fall, and bile crawled up his throat as Shay begged him to get back up and keep going. He could hear Rudiger whimpering in the dark as they continued the climb. Sounds started to fade as Varian's brain came dangerously close to prioritizing unconsciousness above everything else.

At last, they reached the top of the stairs, where the rope handle of a trapdoor dangled from a dirt ceiling. Shay traced another character over the trapdoor's surface and breathed a desperate spell. Another red circle appeared, and the door blasted open to a rainy, early-morning sky. Rudiger scampered up, flicking water droplets and bone dust from his ears. "Hold on," Shay told Varian, and she crawled up out of the crypt. "Give me your hand," she told him, and she helped him emerge into the shadow of a rocky foothill next to a rushing river. Varian assumed it was the same river as the one that ran south of the Haderon Forest. The river was flooded, water gushing in rivulets over the grassy bank. The rain almost immediately soaked them as Varian doubled over once more, sinking to the ground with his forehead pressed to the waterlogged earth. He had never experienced something so physically excruciating before. All he wanted was for it to go away, this screaming that pounded through his mind with every heartbeat. Tears mingled with the rain dripping down his pallid face.

"Varian," he heard Shay speak. "I need your help. I can't get you back by myself, I'm not strong enough. Please."

Varian couldn't speak. He could only lean backwards and nod slowly. He felt Shay take the hand of his bad arm and tuck it into the fold of his alchemist's coat to keep the muscles in his shoulder from tearing any further. "How far is it?" he managed to ask as she helped him stand once more.

Shay took a deep breath. "Closer with each step," was all she said. Varian leaned heavily on her; it was like bracing against a bird, fragile and shaking and soaking wet. He had enough wits about him to wonder how long she would be able to bear his weight like this. With his head hung low and his vision obscured by a world of rain, he started moving with Shay up the river side. It was like walking through a swamp; the ground was thick and muddy, sucking and clinging to each step like molasses. Rudiger practically swam behind them, huffing and puffing as he hopped from one of Varian's footprints to the other.

As they continued wading their way forward, they felt the downpour turn into a torrent that doused them, causing them to slip more than once. Each time, Varian blacked out, then woke up to the sound of Shay's urgent pleas. He tried to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other. Just one more, then another. He could feel Shay struggling under him, straining to hold herself up as well as him. She was either using magic or adrenaline because she kept going, dragging him until they finally reached higher ground. The Haderon Forest rose up to meet them, its silvery trees engulfing them in a quiet, hushed calm that pressed down on their ears like cotton. Shay guided Varian over gnarled roots and jutting rocks, leading him down a path he couldn't see. He could feel a fever slowly creep into his bones like the rain that drenched his skin. It filled his head with strange half-dreams, hallucinations that only served to confuse and terrify him. With his eyes closed, he could still see the skeletons rising up out of their coffins, heard the slabs pound against the ground like the hammer in his brain. All the while, the arrow in his shoulder shuddered with each footstep, a morbid reminder that he would probably never be able to use that arm the same way again. He barely even realized that they had finally made it back to the Crimson Caster's cabin, a flickering light from the dying fireplace emanating from the slim part of the window curtain.

"House," Shay panted as they entered, "clear the table, now!"

Varian heard vials and papers clatter and sift off the table, tumbling up the stairs. The cauldron she'd been working at vanished into thin air. The sound of Shay snapping her fingers predicated the rush of the flames in the fireplace as the embers rekindled back to life. Varian didn't have the strength to argue as she urged him to sit up on the tabletop. Water dripped on the floor as she scrambled about for scissors and string. She settled them hastily on the table and ordered the pot over the fire to start boiling water before dashing up the stairs to fetch more things.

When she was out of sight, Varian reached shakily for the arrowhead. It didn't matter whether it was poisoned or not; he was certain he'd get infected regardless. He'd been thinking about how to even begin removing the shaft. The tip was barbed, which meant it was a good thing that the arrow had pierced all the way through him. If it hadn't, he would have had to ask Shay to do it herself. Since he didn't have to, he skipped ahead to the next step: removing the arrowhead from the shaft. The sight of his own blood coating the tip was gruesome enough, but touching it was even worse. The shaft was thick, almost half an inch in diameter, which made it difficult for Varian to snap. By some miracle, he did, though not without screaming through the pain.

Shay tumbled back down the stairs when she heard the noise and gasped. "What are you doing?!" she shrieked, dumping the clean linens she'd fetched on the table. Her cloak was gone, her feet bare as she hovered anxiously over his wound.

"The arrowhead has to go," Varian wheezed, trying to fight back a retch. "You can't take the shaft out if you don't get rid of it first."

"I know that, but I wasn't going to snap it off!" Shay exclaimed hysterically.

"It doesn't matter now," Varian grimaced, his hair dripping into his eyes as the bloodied arrowhead fell from his fingers, clattering onto the floor. "Just get it out of me."

Shay took a folded piece of linen and pressed it into his hand. She looked like she was holding back a panic attack as she used the scissors to cut the fabric around the injury. He couldn't even feel her tug his coat, shirt and apron away, but he heard her wince out loud once the damage was laid bare. Varian didn't bother to look; his imagination supplied enough imagery. His vision was blurry, anyway. He felt her grip the shaft at the base of the wound. It felt like a hot poker was boring through his shoulder as she carefully extracted the arrow, and another cry involuntarily burst out of him. The sound of it was absolutely sickening, and Varian felt the blood begin to run down his chest as Shay pulled out the arrow and quickly applied pressure to the back of the open wound. He used the linen in his hand to stave off the bleeding, his hand shaking like an old woman's wrist.

"I'm going to have to stitch it," he heard her say.

"I know," he answered under his breath. He was so tired.

Thunder rumbled outside the cabin, and the storm continued to rage, obscuring the morning light and blending it away. Shay did her best to clean the wound and check for splinters before beginning the arduous task of stitching it closed. Varian didn't even notice the needle weaving through his skin; each stitch was just a drop of water in the fevered ocean of throbbing misery he was drowning in. Each time he nodded off into it, Shay would bring him back, telling him he couldn't sleep just yet. Varian weakly obeyed, waiting for her to move to the front of the wound. When she did, he noticed she was crying.

"Stop that," he mumbled out loud.

Shay paused in her stitching.

"Stop with the tears," Varian explained, his words slurred. "Is that all you do, is cry?"

He heard Shay swallow, and she mashed her lips together as she continued her work. She smelled sweet, like honeysuckle. Words came out of her, hot and hard. "I almost got you killed," she said through her tears. "I should never have shown you that door. I should have just turned you away."

Varian felt Rudiger sniff at his arm, his nose warm on his skin. "But you didn't. You can't change what happened." He made as if to jut his chin at the wound, but just turning his neck caused a lance of pain to sear up his spine. "This is nothing. I've felt worse." When Shay gave him a watery, doubtful look, he sighed. "A different kind of worse. I'd rather feel this than what I have in the past."

Shay finally finished the stitching and began to dress the wound. "That's no excuse," she told him. "Stupid girl I am, I should have known better."

To his credit, Varian actually made a chuckle. It was a wet sound, and it hurt like crazy. "If we're going to make that argument," he exhaled, "then I should have known better, too. I'm the one who broke the seal on the door."

"But you didn't know what would happen," Shay countered. "How could you have known?"

"But I didn't know," Varian mused aloud. "I should have let it alone." At that moment, he wasn't sure what he was talking about anymore. "I should have let it all alone. All I do is cause trouble everywhere I go. Everything I try, everything I do…and I get shot in the back for it. I've tried blaming others, I've tried revenge. It doesn't work when the only person at fault is yourself."

"Stop it," Shay hissed.

Varian glared at her, his blue eyes glazed with fever. "But it's true," he said firmly, swallowing once. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't…" He shook his head and looked away, tugging his goggles from his hair. "I'd swear it'll never happen again, but I've learned how difficult it is to keep promises. And yet, at the same time, you're right. There is no excuse." He managed to pull the glove from his bad arm, but he couldn't even try to pull off the other. He gave another chuckle at his own helplessness. He felt like an infant, wailing in the dark with no one to hear.

Shay reached to help him and knotted a makeshift sling around his neck. As she draped a blanket around his shoulders and set his boots by the door, she said nothing. She led him wordlessly towards the stairs, and he trudged slowly after her. Something brushed past his leg; it was Killy, the hare bounding effortlessly up to the second floor. He saw Rudiger tail after, his eyes wide and curious. The steps creaked under his weight as Varian followed. With his mind clouded as it was, he didn't realize at first where the girl was leading him until she opened the door to a very small bedroom that could only be hers. More bookshelves like the ones downstairs stood against the walls, and a desk cluttered with bobbins and bolts of cloth was tucked into the corner opposite the unmade bed. Shay said nothing about the state of the room as she pointed for Varian to sit down.

"I'm not staying in your room," Varian protested emotionlessly. Even in this state, he was able to acknowledge how unseemly it would be for him to sleep in a young woman's bed, let alone a bed that wasn't his own.

Shay said nothing. Her face was expressionless, stony even. She pointed again, still without saying a word. Rudiger followed her finger and leapt up onto the mattress, stepping lightly over the cotton quilt. He looked over expectantly at Varian, his ringed tail twitching back and forth.

 _Well, I tried._ Varian sat and watched Shay turn to one of the shelves. The melody of clinking glass jars and bottles filled the quiet air, and she came back to him with a philter in her hands. She held it out for him to take. "It's a pain killer," she finally spoke.

Varian wasn't sure whether she was telling the truth or not, but he didn't feel like arguing with her. He took it and gave it a sniff before drinking. It tasted bitter, and it numbed his stomach like ice. "Listen," he said quietly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry we weren't able to…well." He held out the empty phial. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

Shay stared at the phial. She knelt down so that she was at eye-level with him and reached to take it. She sat there on the floor with the empty glass in her hands, chewing her lip and fiddling with the stopper. She finally looked at him, as if she was going to say something. Varian could sense a tension building, like a wire twisting tight around his chest. Whatever she wanted to tell him, it was important. But then she changed her mind, and she let out a sigh. "Get some sleep," she suggested as she stood and turned to leave.

Varian caught her hand, and she stopped dead. He wanted to ask what it was she was keeping from him, to demand what she was hiding. "Thank you," was all he said. As he said it, he knew he meant it. He'd only just met her today, but after everything that had happened, it didn't feel that way. And he _was_ grateful.

Shay didn't say anything. She turned her head, and Varian saw her give him a look so vulnerable, so desperate and forlorn, it made his gut wrench. He'd never seen anyone look that way before, much less at him. It was like she was screaming at him on the inside, begging him for something. Why wouldn't she tell him what it was? He wasn't sure why, but it was almost familiar. Her fingers slipped out of his, falling limply back to her side. She slowly made her way to the door. "Killy will let me know if you need anything," she told the open air before closing it behind her.

Varian glanced over at the hare curled up on the stool, its long ears twitching in his direction. Rudiger stared back at the hare, but he didn't seem hostile. In fact, he let out a massive yawn and curled up at the edge of the bed, cleaning his fur. Varian gave a weak smile, glad that his friend was alright. As he leaned back with his injured shoulder facing the cabin's roof, he waited for sleep to claim him. It came more slowly than he'd hoped, his mind still swirling with feverish images and foreign words that swam in and out of his thoughts. They trailed into his dreams, tainting his subconscious with restlessness and anxiety.

Deep in his lonely sleep, he could hear a woman calling his name.


	10. Chapter Nine: The Witch Hunter

**"Sir!" A voice** called from outside the captain's study. He glanced up at the door and frowned; he didn't like being interrupted in the middle of reading papers. "We have a report about that one case. You know, the big one?"

The captain's eyebrows flew up his face. "Get in here, Pete," he barked, and the guard stumbled clumsily into the room. He looked sweaty and disheveled, but his eyes were wild with excitement. "Whatever you have for me, it had better be more than some stray raccoon sighting."

Pete deflated. "Well, yes, we've had a lot of those, but this time there's more than that." He held out a rolled-up sheet of parchment, and the captain stood from his desk to snatch it from his hands. "One of our scouts found footprints matching the kid's size."

The captain rolled his eyes. "You're joking," he scoffed, unfurling the report in his gloved hands. "Anybody could match the boy's foot size!"

Pete made a nervous noise. "Yeah, but not many size eight-and-a-half feet tread near the Haderon Forest."

The captain swallowed wrong and started hacking. The candle flame on his desk wavered as he pounded the surface with his fist. "The Haderon Forest?" he gasped between coughs. "You mean the cursed forest that no one ever returns from? The one in the south?"

"Yes sir," Pete nodded fiercely, bobbing up and down.

The captain finally calmed down, and he slumped back in his seat, reading the report. The hastily written script told the same. "Right then," he muttered. "Dismissed, soldier." Pete saluted and left, leaving the captain in a crushing silence as he closed the door behind him. The captain read the report a few more times before pushing his chair away and reaching under the desk for a lockbox. He produced a key from around his neck and opened the box to reveal a set of scrolls and old pamphlets. He sifted through them until he found a report from his predecessor, and he pulled the candle light closer as he searched for the entry he was looking for.

"Here it is," he muttered under his breath. "I thought I recognized the name." The captain before him was one of the few recorded who was able to return from the Haderon Forest, but several words and sentences had been stricken from the record. The captain could only assume that the redacted text was the explanation for their miraculous escape. He frowned sharply at the blacked-out script and tucked it back into the lockbox. So, there was a way to survive the forest, but whatever way it was must be either too dangerous, or…only one person was allowed to know:

The king.

* * *

By the time Varian woke up, it was almost dusk. The rain had stopped, droplets falling like crystals from the eaves. He sat up with a groan and rubbed at his eyes, then realized he was using his left hand. He froze and looked at his shoulder; the bandaging was caked with his blood, which made his stomach lurch, but the agony he'd experienced the night before was now just a dull pinprick. He carefully peeled the linen aside and saw that the wound was nearly closed, and new skin had already started to form.

"Impossible," he breathed, flexing his fingers. He noticed Rudiger stir, and the raccoon's eyes popped open at the sight of his master awake. He made a gleeful sound and pounced into Varian's lap, then looked startled. He bobbed his head upwards, pawing at his ears.

Varian frowned at the raccoon's behavior. "What is it?" Then he realized what Rudiger was trying to communicate, and he reached up to pull a lock of hair down into view. The streak in his dark bangs was glowing again, blue light seeping over his forehead. The sight of it snapped him fully awake, and he raked an agitated hand through it. "Why is it doing that?" he hissed out loud. He was pulled out of his momentary panic by the sound of scratching at the door, and Killy emerged as it opened. Varian wasn't sure when or how the hare had managed to leave in the first place, but it sped to Varian, jumping up on the bed. Rudiger stood, sniffing at Killy as the hare pawed urgently at Varian's side.

Varian reached to calm the creature, smoothing his velvety ears over his head. "Easy, little guy. What's –" He stopped when he heard a voice from downstairs through the open door. It sounded like a man. Alarm flared up his spine, singing the hairs on his neck as he left the room and crept carefully down the steps. He paused before he could pass the corner, and he listened carefully with his back pressed to the cold wall.

"…Told you before," the man was saying, his voice husky and deep. "You're not a child anymore. How much longer are you going to live this fantasy? You know your mother can't be trusted."

"There's only one person I don't trust," Varian heard Shay say. Her quiet voice shook with anger. "And that's you. I don't know how you found your way here, but I have no intention of allowing you to stay."

Varian's eyes widened. He had been worried at first that this man, whoever he was, was after him. Instead, it sounded almost worse. There was a long pause in the conversation, which only made him more uncomfortable. Then the man said something that made his blood run cold.

"You have a guest here."

 _Crap._ He must have seen Varian's boots at the door. He waited on baited breath for Shay to say something. "The only guest I have," Shay said coldly, "is standing right in front of me. I won't ask you again, Caius. Go back to Ghislaine. There is no place for you here, and there never will be."

The man, Caius, gave a sharp sigh. "Alright, little hawk. I'll leave. But you know it's only a matter of time." Varian heard footsteps, then the man whispered, "I know you found her, and you will lead me to wherever she's hiding, one way or another." Then Varian listened to the man leave, closing the front door behind him so quietly, Varian almost didn't hear it.

Rudiger darted out before Varian could catch him, his claws clicking on the wood floor. He heard Shay exhale shakily. "How long have you been listening?" she asked.

Varian gave a sigh of his own and stepped out into the open. "Not long," he answered, shrugging around in the blanket she'd given him. He noted Shay's haggard appearance; she looked like she'd barely slept. She'd tied her hair back, so Varian could see her whole face. She was pretty in a petite, wholesome way, kind of like the baker's daughter that Varian had swooned over when he was kid. Soot smudged her cheek, which told him she'd fallen asleep by the fireplace. Her apron was missing, and her feet were bare. He saw that she'd cleaned up after attending his wound; the table was scrubbed clean of blood, and the floor was perfectly dry. He wasn't sure how, but even his coat and shirt had been mended. He didn't even see any stitching; she must have repaired them with magic.

Shay must have noticed him staring, because she reached to undo her hair, to hide her scarlet eye. "You don't have to do that," Varian stopped her. "Hide it, I mean. Your eye."

"O-oh," Shay's cheeks turned pink, and her hands hesitantly fell back. "You don't mind it?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, because…H-How's your shoulder?" she changed the subject.

Varian showed her. "I take it that was more than just a pain killer you gave me?"

Shay stared openly at him, confused. "No, I…" She stepped around the table and crossed over to him to inspect the wound, peering at the stitching as she traced it with her finger. "This wasn't me." She glanced up at him. "And your hair is reacting again."

In any other situation, Varian might have been too busy concentrating on the fact that he'd never stood so close to a member of the opposite sex before. In this case, he was too preoccupied with the visitor who had just left. "Who's Caius?" he asked, pulling her hand away.

Shay frowned and stepped back. "No one that concerns you," she mumbled.

"I think I get to decide what concerns me," Varian countered.

Shay made a dismissive cough in her throat. She turned away and stepped towards the pot over the fire. Something was bubbling under the lid. "He's a witch hunter," she told him reluctantly as she lifted the lid and stirred the mixture inside. "One of the last from the great witch hunt that the king issued almost twenty years ago."

"Witch hunt?" Varian sat down at the table, wincing when his shoulder ached. His hair was still glowing, blue light flickering in and out of his vision. Rudiger leapt into his lap, curling comfortably against his stomach. "I've read almost every book on the history of Corona. Nowhere does it say anything about a witch hunt."

Shay tapped her ladle over the rim of the pot. It looked like she was cooking stew. Varian could see diced golden potatoes swimming in rich, seasoned broth. He realized he hadn't eaten anything much better than shoe leather for the past six months, and his insides started howling. He could barely pay attention to what Shay was saying as she answered him. "That's because the king kept it a secret," she replied. "He didn't want to publicly explain people disappearing from their homes in the night."

Varian planted his chin in his hand. "That sounds about right," he grumbled. "I mean," he stammered hastily, "being the king and all, he has appearances to keep, you know?"

"Yes," Shay agreed sourly. "Like an infant hiding his sheets when he wets the bed."

Varian gave a dark chuckle, then became sober again. "Alright, humor me. Why would the king issue a witch hunt?"

Shay snapped her fingers, and a wooden bowl flew out of a cupboard on the opposite side of the room into her outstretched hand. Varian was almost used to the strange techniques she used to conduct herself about the house, but he still didn't understand how it worked. "Because he believed it was a witch who stole his child," she answered, tapping a large scoop of stew into the bowl. She placed it in front of Varian on the table with a spoon and a tumbler of water. "After the princess went missing, the king seemed to nearly lose his mind. Something so precious to him, suddenly gone. He believed magic to be the culprit, so it was magic he decided to pursue and bring to his throne for interrogation and judgment. Some mages were brought to the castle against their will. Many resisted and were killed, or disappeared without a trace. My mother was one who survived."

Varian picked up the spoon and took a bite, then started wolfing down the entire bowl. Whether the stew was good or not was a moot point; he was starving. Rudiger whined, and he paused long enough for the raccoon to have his share. "Why go after magic users?" he asked around a mouthful.

"I don't know," Shay admitted truthfully as she ate from her own bowl. "I tried asking my mother once. It's the one question she told me never to ask again."

Varian frowned. "So, what you're telling me is that this Caius has a vendetta?"

Shay swallowed and looked down at her toes, refusing to meet his eyes. "Of a sort," was all she said, settling her spoon back into her half-eaten bowl as she set it aside. It seemed she'd lost her appetite.

Varian licked his spoon clean and brandished it in her direction. "I hope you understand that 'Of a sort' is not enough information for me, especially when this guy is clearly after your mom. The last thing we need is some vengeful witch hunter getting in our way."

"He'll only get in the way if he knows where to find her," Shay said, though she sounded doubtful. "And he hasn't known for over seven years."

"Yeah," Varian smirked. "But we found her, and eventually we're going to have to go back. You see what I'm saying?"

Shay pursed her lips. "He won't be able to follow us through the forest. I'm the only one who understands its magic, which means I'm the only one who can find the way."

" _I_ was able to find this place," Varian pointed out.

"That's because you had a map," Shay explained without hesitation. "That map had to be more than just a path on a piece of paper. It must have protected you from the forest's influence."

Varian shrugged, then hissed when the action hurt. "Well, it looks like your witch hunter has protection of his own, since he just walked through your front door."

"I –" Shay swallowed. "I-I don't know how he did that," she admitted with a blush. "But as long as we make sure –"

"You still don't get it, do you?" Varian sighed impatiently. "Shay, a witch hunter isn't some gnat you can swat away. Just how do you know this guy, anyway?"

"He's my uncle," Shay answered bitterly.

Varian's eyes popped. He made a weak noise in his throat, then cleared it and took a deep breath. "What?"

Shay turned away from him and leaned against the table, folding her arms around herself. "This is why I didn't want to tell you," she insisted. "Caius is my concern, not yours. He won't harm you as long as you stay out of his way. I'm trying to protect you. You were almost killed yesterday."

"I noticed," Varian said wryly, setting Rudiger on the floor as he stood. "And I appreciate the worry, but you should be more concerned about your own safety. That wasn't exactly a hidden threat he made back there. It sounds like he'll use you to find her if he gets the chance."

"Caius has had many chances to hurt me," Shay told him. She stared unblinkingly into the flames. "For as long as I've known him, he's never so much as touched me. He claims that he cares about me, but…" She glanced over at him, her scarlet eye burning. "I don't share the sentiment."

"That's understandable," Varian agreed solemnly. "But I know firsthand that sentiments can change." He felt something strange fill his stomach, something hot and cold at the same time, and it wasn't the stew. "The moment you choose ambition over standard. When you compromise to get what you want." He stepped around the table until he stood in front of her, and he reached to place a hand on her shoulder. "How long do you think it will take for his personal goals to outweigh his love for you?"

Shay refused to look at him, her glare intensifying as the flames flickered in her eyes. "It's not love," she whispered. "It's guilt. He doesn't know what to do with it, so he nurses it by sparing me."

"What kind of guilt?"

"What other kind is there?" Shay finally transferred her glare to his face. "The kind when you know you've done something wrong. The kind that hurts because you don't know how to fix it. Since you don't know, you try to justify it to make yourself feel better." Her words were sharp and caustic, like thin slivers of glass. "It's a paradox. You think you're easing your burden, but you're only making things worse, doing more terrible things."

The feeling in Varian's stomach turned to nausea, and his hand fell away from her. Looking at her was like looking at a bright light, so he averted his eyes and swallowed the stomachache down. His hair fell in a black curtain, so she couldn't see how pale he'd become. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'm scared to ask. What exactly did he do?"

"He murdered my father."

Varian choked on a swallow. "Of course, he did," he managed to speak as his face streamed. It sounded like something out of a Flynn Rider novel he'd once read as a kid, the one where the town bishop turned out to be a criminal, as well as the blacksmith's long-lost cousin. Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn't exactly the same, but the twist had still left him floored. It was actually one of his favorite installments in the series, although he always thought that Flynn's portrayal in that one was a little out of character…He realized that Shay was waiting for him to say more, and he cleared his sore throat. "Uh, right, so he killed your dad. That's…uh, that's bad." He felt something brush his leg, and he looked down to see Killy there. He reached to pick up the hare, and it settled passively into his arms. "Care to explain why he would do that?"

"I'd rather not," Shay answered. She noticed Rudiger on the table and scooped him up before he could knock something over. "It's a long story. It's painful, and…I'm not really supposed to know about it," she admitted with a blush.

Varian nodded knowingly. "From your mother's journal, I guess?"

Shay nodded, stroking Rudiger's ears. He looked comfortable there, sleepy even. "You should get some more rest," she told him. "I don't know how you've healed so quickly, but you're still hurt."

"Here," Varian offered. "I'll trade you." They exchanged animals, and Rudiger crawled up over his good shoulder. "Listen, I've been thinking about what we could use to open that coffin. We might not have something here that could work, but I know where we might be able to get something that could. It'll be risky, though."

Shay shifted Killy in her arms. "Varian…I don't think we should go back to the crypt alone. I think we need more than what you and I can offer."

"You're thinking of asking someone else to help us?" Varian exchanged glances with Rudiger. "You're kidding, right?"

"Just hear me out," Shay murmured gently. "There's a man who lives at the capitol. His name is Xavier, he was an old friend of my mother's. I haven't seen him since I was a little girl, but he knows about old legends and magic better than anyone. He can help us learn more about the crypt."

"Yeah, if he's still there," Varian pointed out bluntly, "and if we don't get caught by your uncle first. Besides, I…" He sighed through his nose. "If you want to go to the capitol, you'll…you'll have to go without me."

"Why?" Shay blinked confusedly. "I thought…" She ducked her head, a strand of hair falling into her reddening face. "I thought this was something we were both doing now. Together."

"Well, I –" Varian's voice abruptly died when he wasn't sure what to say. They both stood there awkwardly for a long moment, then they jumped when the fireplace gave a loud pop. "We are," he stammered hurriedly. "It's just that I hadn't really thought of it that way. But that's not why I'm saying I can't go with you."

Shay looked up at him, studying his face until he became uncomfortable. "You're hiding from something, aren't you?" She suddenly asked. "You didn't come here just to see my mother. You ran away from something, something terrible –"

"That's enough," Varian cut her off. Killy's head snapped up, his ears furled in the direction of Varian's terse tone. Varian sighed sharply. "I've told you before," he said, more gently this time. "It's not something I want to talk about." He slipped past her and walked towards the stairs. He paused at the bottom and turned to face her. "You said you were trying to protect me. Think of this as my way of returning the favor."

Shay's lips parted, and she gave a silent exhale.

Varian looked away; he didn't know why, but he didn't want to see her expression anymore. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'll be leaving in the morning. Whether you come with me or not is your choice." He trudged back up the stairs, his head hung low. Rudiger felt heavier on his shoulder, and he could hear the raccoon sniffing at his ear. _Am I doing the right thing?_ Varian wondered, not for the first time. He doubted she would come with him. She seemed convinced that this Xavier could help. But going to the capitol was too dangerous, and if he could make it to Old Corona without running into any –

He lost his train of thought, as well as all semblance of composure, when he entered Shay's room. He hadn't noticed Caius hiding behind the door; the man grabbed him from behind, smothering him with a hand over his startled face. Varian kicked and squirmed as Caius quietly closed the door. "Relax, boy," he muttered in Varian's ear. "You'll tear your shoulder open again. You'll only get hurt if you raise a ruckus, understand? I just want to talk."

Varian recognized the voice and took a moment to process the man's words. He supposed that if the witch hunter really wanted to kill him, he would have the moment he'd crossed the threshold. It went against every instinct in his body, but he slowly managed to stop fighting Caius' grip, and the man let him go. Varian whirled to see Rudiger's tail released from under the witch hunter's boot, and the raccoon leapt up onto the bed, hissing and snarling. Varian mirrored the disposition, fixing Caius with a vicious glare as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't call Shay," he threatened.

Caius seemed to fill up the room with his broad shoulders, his scarred eye staring down at Varian from above his chiseled jaw. He gave a wry smirk. "You need a little girl to come protect you, now?" he pointed out bluntly. "Pathetic. I don't know who you are, boy, or what it is you need the girl's mother for."

"I'm Varian," the alchemist said. "Son of Quirin. Any business I have here is my own. And as I recall, my hostess asked you to leave some time ago."

But Caius seemed to have stopped listening, and his expression became nebulous. "Quirin," he muttered under his breath. "Quirin, Quirin. Where do I know that name?" Then his face dawned with recognition. "Ah, yes. Quirin, from Old Corona, fancied himself the village leader. Of course, I never really wondered what happened to that miserable village, but now that I think about it –"

"Hey, that's _my_ village you're talking about," Varian spat. Although, he supposed his village did seem to fit that description now.

Caius snapped his attention back to Varian, his grey hair glinting from the dusky light spilling into the room. Varian noticed that the man was equipped with a massive sword, and that he had the biceps to lift it. This man may have been out of the hunt for a while, but he certainly didn't look it. He spoke calmly, as if he was a local fisherman instead of a deadly witch hunter. "You would be wise to take your troubles elsewhere. For your own safety, it's better that you don't interfere – with the girl's plans, or my own."

"And if I refuse?"

"Let me tell you something, boy," Caius continued. "Something you should take quick to heart. Magic isn't the solution to whatever predicament you're in. Magic solves nothing. It only causes pain and fear and death." His milky eye twitched in the direction of the door. "Pray tell, what exactly has the little hawk told you about me?"

"What do you think she told me?" Varian spoke hesitantly, worried that he might say something stupid, or worse. He'd already been shot by an arrow. He didn't want a knife in the gut to be next.

"What any witch tells," Caius answered simply. "Lies and deceit. It's what they do. It's in their nature as much as their own tainted blood. My sorrow is that my niece is soiled by such petulance. She can't help it, you see. It's a compulsion, a drive that she doesn't even know has corrupted her every thought and action. A corruption her mother encouraged. I doubt you even realize it."

Varian felt something cold slide down his spine. "Realize what?"

Caius reached to tap his left temple. "She's got you bewitched, son of Quirin. Enchanted, spellbound, whatever you wish to call it."

Varian felt his face grow red, his heart pumping in his chest as his breath shortened. "That's not true."

"Oh?" Caius crossed over to the bed and sat down; Rudiger scrambled out of the way, spitting and shaking all over. "Explain this, then. You stumble upon this place, meet this girl, and less than…what, one, two days later? Suddenly you're the best of friends. You claim you're trying to protect her from something. She acts like you've known each other for years, and you find yourself buying into it. She seems vulnerable, sensitive…appealing. You think she's pretty. You think she's kind." He planted his chin in his hand when Varian struggled and failed to find a rebuke. "Do you really believe that all happens naturally in so short a time? It doesn't. She's placed you under her heel like a common mongrel dog."

"That's not true," Varian repeated through gritted teeth.

"You have a choice," Caius said unblinkingly. "Abandon whatever ambition set you on this path and never return to this forest or continue your involvement with my niece…and accept the risk of crossing _my_ path."

Varian took a moment to process the threat. "Abandon my ambition?" He found himself narrowing his eyes, two blue slits peering at Caius' scarred face. "Just what makes you think your ambition is greater than mine? Maybe _you're_ the one who should be steering clear of _me_."

Caius lifted his index finger to his mouth and bit down on it hard to keep from bursting into laughter. "I like you, boy," he admitted after the shameless glee in his chest subsided. "It's a shame I'll probably be killing you later. Unless, of course, you wise up and get as far away from this place as possible. Or, better yet, perhaps you'd be willing to tell me where you managed to find the child's mother?"

Varian was no fool. At least, he didn't think he was. He knew there was a chance that if he told this man anything he wanted to know, Caius would kill him the moment he stopped talking. So he said nothing, glaring and simmering.

The witch hunter smirked at him. "No," he murmured low in his throat. "I suppose you wouldn't, considering you're under a spell." He stood and crossed over to the window, unlatching it and pushing the pane out into the evening air. "I have no desire to soil my blade in cold blood. You have been warned, son of Quirin. Leave these woods or suffer the consequences."

As Varian watched the man climb out of the room, his thoughts slowly picked up speed, swirling in tumultuous tumbles around his addled brain. His hands were shaking as he sat numbly down in the same spot on the bed where Caius had been. He barely felt the cold touch of Rudiger's nose on his arm as he clenched and unclenched his fingers in an effort to calm his nerves, his nails digging crescents into his naked palms.

The funny thing about it all was that Varian wasn't even upset about being on the receiving end of a transparent death threat. He was upset by the implication that Shay had placed some kind of enchantment on him. After what had happened in the crypt, after everything he'd seen in just the past day, he had nothing to refute the evidence of real magic…which also meant that being under a spell was also a possibility. He searched inside himself, trying to find something that felt wrong or out of sorts. Aside from the dull pain in his shoulder and a need to use the privy, he felt fine. He grabbed his hair and pulled it down; the blue streak was still glowing, the strands interwoven with tingling sparks. Was this Shay's doing, then? He had never experienced his hair glowing before until he met her. But she couldn't have, could she? She'd barely even spoken to him, let alone touched him. He had absolutely no reason to trust Caius, but at the same time, it was true that he probably wouldn't be able to tell whether he was bewitched or not purely based on the nature of the enchantment. But then, even if he was able to tell, would he even care? Whether he was under a spell or not, the very notion that Shay could perform such a feat was enough to induce paranoia. But could she cast a spell like that, to control somebody? How was he to know?!

He made a frustrated noise and planted his face in his hands, staring into the wood floor. The strange images from the night before pushed themselves round in his mind, incomprehensible and familiar all at once. He placed them aside, further frustrated at the continued annoyance. Regardless of whether he had fallen under the influence of a supernatural force, at least Caius' threat was truth. As long as Varian didn't interfere with the witch hunter's plans, he would be left alone. But if Caius had something nasty planned for Shay, Varian couldn't just stand aside and let him do it. But what if that was the enchantment speaking? How was he to tell between twisted magic and the troubled thoughts of his own heart? It was in his nature to want to protect an innocent girl, wasn't it?

But his father. What about Old Corona? His home was still a smoking, devastated mark pinned into the countryside by bitter actions and cold black rocks. He had tried everything to fix it, everything except magic. For his father, he couldn't give up now. He had to free the Crimson Caster.

Suddenly, he had an idea.


	11. Chapter Ten: Outsourced to Ghislaine

Varian put his plan into motion as the dawn was breaking over the horizon. Sunlight drifted through the trees in lazy lilts as he left the cabin and fled with Rudiger through the dense terrain, brushing damp branches out of his path as he neared the edge of the forest. His heart was a battering ram against his ribs, but a grim look of determination was fixed on his face. Shay had removed the stitching from his shoulder some time that morning; all that was left of his wound was a pale scar, and his hair had finally stopped glowing.

 _I hope you find what you're looking for,_ was all she had said to him. Varian couldn't tell whether she was being sincere or not; she had refused to meet his eyes, and she had let her hair down over her face again. Varian left feeling just as unsettled and uncertain about her as before. Thoughts continued to plague his mind even as he exited the forest and crossed a narrow bridge over the flooded river. Anxiety fueled his footsteps as he followed the beaten path to the village of Ghislaine. Rudiger seemed to mirror his emotions, the raccoon scrambling up his leg and onto his shoulder as they entered the quiet streets. The village smelled like rain-soaked wood and leather, and Varian passed at least three different fish vendors before finding the pub. Varian pushed the door open and was nearly bowled over by the pungent stink of stale beer and burnt eggs. The floor was sticky under his feet as he fought the urge to turn around and head back out. He glanced around the pub and saw a handful of patrons passed out over their stools and tables, snoring and belching in their inebriated stupor.

The only sober person present, apart from Varian, was the bartender: a swarthy, middle-aged man with a pock-marked face and beady black eyes. His apron was stained with booze and grease, as was the rag he was using to scrub half-heartedly at the drenched bar. His efforts served only to swirl around different spilled liquors, dark ale mixing lazily with amber brandy.

The man glanced up at Varian's approach, his expression unchanging. His dry lips peeled apart stickily as his spoke. "Not that I care much," he droned, "but you seem a mite young to be entering this particular establishment, don't you think? Especially this time of day, unless the wife has kicked you out. But I bet you ain't got one of them, neither."

Varian was afraid to open his mouth because he wasn't sure if he would speak or retch. "I'm looking for a man named Caius," he managed to ask. The taste of the place nearly sent him over the edge.

"I'm here, boy." Varian whirled around to see the witch hunter standing behind him, his blind eye peering down at him like a silvery orb. He crossed his thick arms over his brawny chest. "Smart, coming to the pub to ask for information."

Varian shrugged. "It's the best place to find it."

Caius actually cracked a small smile. "You think like a hunter," he said. "A foolish one, though, considering you're a wanted man."

Varian felt alarm spike through his body as he heard a few drunkards in the pub make alerted noises, and they lifted their heads to stare blearily at him. "I was aware of the risk," he admitted, his hand itching towards the bow on his back. "But I didn't know where else I could find you."

Caius blinked slowly at him, then delivered each member of the pub an icy glare. He reached out and latched a hand onto Varian's left, injured shoulder. Even though he was healed, Varian feigned a wince, which wasn't difficult under the witch hunter's tense grip. "Let's go," Caius said, steering Varian out of the pub. Stepping out into the street was like walking into a meadow field of flowers; Varian would never complain of the smell of mildew again. He felt Rudiger quake with anger and resentment as they crossed down the street towards an old, seemingly abandoned shack. Caius urged Varian inside, closing the door behind them. The interior was impeccably clean. There were no decorations on the walls, and a single table stood by a well-worn cot and a tiny furnace. One chair stood at the table, and Caius pushed Varian down into it with his tight, controlling hand.

"So, you're the boy who committed high treason against the crown," Caius mused, leaning against the wall. "They say you kidnapped the princess, the one that was lost for eighteen years."

"Actually, I kidnapped the queen," Varian muttered.

"Even more impressive," Caius praised, dusting a smudge of dirt from his weathered fingers. "Someone your age undermining the entire Coronan royal guard like it was child's play. Have you ever considered being a mercenary? You'd be highly sought after in Saporia."

"Sorry, but I have my own agenda," Varian answered. "And since you know what I'm wanted for, I'm sure you've heard rumors why I did it."

Caius nodded slowly. "They say you want to bring your father back to life."

Varian frowned. "In a sense. I'm not actually sure whether he's dead or not. Kind of hard to tell when he's trapped inside ten feet of amber."

Caius raised a grey eyebrow. "How did that happen?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here," Varian sighed. "I've studied alchemy my whole life. It's my trade, it's what I do. Everything I've ever learned, all the experience I've had did nothing for me. I had six months in jail to try and figure out my next step, since the royal family didn't seem to have a solution to my problem, either. I realized I had to outsource my work, so to speak."

"I've told you, boy," Caius narrowed his gaze. "Magic isn't the answer, especially the Crimson Caster's."

"I know," Varian turned his gaze to the floor. "Your niece already told me there's nothing that can be done. Even if we did free her mother, all she could do is tell me how it happened, not how to undo it." He paused, then looked back up at Caius, his blue eyes steely and unblinking. "That's why I need someone who knows how to _destroy_ magic. Someone like you."

Caius scratched absentmindedly at a spot on his arm. "You'll tell me where the witch is in exchange for my expertise?"

Varian shook his head. "I'll do better. I'll show you where she is." He glanced at Rudiger. "But only if you can do it."

"Oh," Caius revealed a full set of white teeth in his smile. "I can do it."

"Well, then." Varian stood and offered his hand. "Shall we do business, witch hunter?"

Caius clasped the hand and shook. "Let's begin then, alchemist."

* * *

"Your Majesty," the captain knelt down at the throne, his gloved hand clenched tightly over his heart – partly out of respect, but also to hide his nerves. Normally, the captain was fairly calm and reserved when in the presence of the king; he'd stood in the throne room often enough. It was his duty to remain collected, to keep up appearances. But the throne room was empty of commoners today, which meant that no one but the king would hear what he had to say.

King Frederick acknowledged the captain with a lift of his hand. His eyes were soft, mildly curious to hear the captain's report. "What news do you have for us?"

The captain stood and noticed Royal Advisor Nigel hovering by the king's seat, his thin mustache twitching expectantly. "It's…" He swallowed once. "It's for your ears only, my king. It's about our most recent…investigation."

King Frederick turned his head, a slight tilt to express confusion. "Are you certain, captain? I have an advisor for a reason, you know. Nigel is aware of the developments concerning our escapee."

The captain swallowed again; it did nothing to ease his dry throat. All he could say was, "The Haderon Forest, your Majesty."

Something in the king's gaze sparked. "Nigel," he addressed the advisor. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

Nigel bristled with surprise. "But sire –" He stopped mid-protest when the king trained a warning look in his direction. "Y-yes, your Majesty. Shall I wait in your study?"

The king gave a single nod, and his gaze returned to the captain as Nigel stiffly left with a worried look on his weaselly face. "I assume you have a good reason for bringing up the Haderon Forest?" His voice was composed, but the captain could detect the faintest waver.

"We've discovered evidence that the boy entered the forest less than three days ago," the captain explained, folding his arms behind his back. "It's well known that to enter the Haderon Forest is taboo."

"And you have reason to believe that I would know why the boy would dare to travel there?"

The captain produced his predecessor's report, holding out the small bundle of documentation. "If I may be so bold, sire. My only wish is to serve you. But I will not in good conscience send my men into a place that's cursed. This boy, Varian, must have obtained a degree of information we don't have…or rather, information that no one else is allowed to know."

King Frederick stood slowly from his seat, like a mountain rising from the earth. "You are bold, captain. Under any other circumstance, I would demote you for it." He sighed deeply. "But I cannot stand idly by with knowledge that can help you retrieve and detain a potential threat, especially one such as Quirin's son. If Varian has gone to the Haderon Forest, it is in search of someone who may or may not be able to help save his father. What I am about to tell you, you must swear to me on your life that you will not divulge to anyone else."

The captain gave his sincere pledge, waiting with baited breath for the king to continue.

"Years ago," the king started, pacing before the throne, "I sent the previous captain to find this individual, in the hopes that she would provide us with a means to rescue the queen from the brink of death. It was a matter handled discreetly, so as not to alarm the people. The woman's name was Lyra, but she was known as the Crimson Caster to the few common folk who knew of her existence. According to them, she was one of the most powerful witches in the known world. The captain before you was one of few who remained undaunted by these claims. The Haderon Forest is deeply rooted in an ancient magic, a power that only this woman was able to understand. The captain and his men were lost for days, searching aimlessly for her. He believed the disorientation was the witch's doing, some spell that she must have cast to deter those who may wish to harm her."

The captain processed the king's words, trying to connect the dots. "The boy wouldn't enter the forest without a means of undermining its magic, then."

"I suppose it's possible," the king admitted. "We've both learned what he's capable of, so he either found a means to navigate the forest without getting lost, or he's hoping that whatever – whoever – he's looking for will find him." He set his lips in a grim line. "Either way, it seems that my assumption was wrong."

"Which assumption might that be?"

Frederick reached for his forehead, massaging the twitching muscle over his right eye. "You know of the witch hunt, I'm sure. You can't exactly become captain of the guard without learning of it. That hunt was issued in an attempt to bring the Crimson Caster back to the castle to pay for her alleged crime of stealing my daughter. Of course, it wasn't until years later, after recovering the princess, that I learned a different culprit was responsible for her disappearance. At the time, however, I had reason to believe that the Crimson Caster was the only suspect. I tried to send more troops to the Haderon Forest to flush her out, but the forest simply turned them away, leading them back out into the countryside."

The king paused, reflecting. "For years, I believed the Crimson Caster to be either dead or a fugitive in another land, far away from Corona. If the boy truly is searching for her, then it means he is attempting to enlist her assistance in whatever plan he has in store…either for his father or for Corona. I fear it could be both."

The captain's muscles tensed. "What would have me do, sire?"

King Frederick turned to the captain. "Gather as many scouts as you are able," he ordered. "Post them in a perimeter around the entire Haderon Forest. No one is to enter or engage with anything or anyone. Wait for the boy to appear. When he does, apprehend him and whoever he's accompanied by and bring them to the castle for containment. No one is to be killed, understood?"

The captain frowned. "But your Majesty, if he attacks my men –"

"We are peacemakers, captain," the king insisted, "not pugilists. There will be no instigation on our part. I trust in your abilities. You will retrieve the boy alive and in one piece."

"I…" The captain bowed his reluctant head. "Yes, sire."


	12. Chapter Eleven: Greater Ambition

**Rudiger scampered and** sniffed his way forward through the dense underbrush at the edge of the Haderon Forest, skirting the border of the trees as he led Varian and Caius towards where they'd emerged from the crypt. Varian remembered enough to know where the entrance was, but travelling through the entire underground catacomb was not appealing, especially since it would be easier to return to the burial chamber from where they'd left. Being in the state that he was when they'd escaped though, Varian couldn't retrace the path back to the egress in his mind. But Rudiger had a good memory, his sense of smell was sharper, and he hadn't been severely injured at the time.

As they continued to follow the raccoon, the air between Varian and Caius was heavy and unsettlingly quiet. It seemed that Shay's uncle was just as much of a conversationalist as she was. "Can I ask you something?" Varian tried as they stepped carefully down a steep, rocky slope towards the river. Caius made a small, acknowledging grunt. "Why did you become a witch hunter?"

"Obligation," Caius answered.

Varian frowned. "To what?"

"To my family," Shay's uncle continued. "My brother was the captain of the guard at the time that the king ordered the hunt. I couldn't let him fight the fiends alone, so I enlisted under his command."

"That makes sense, I guess." Varian jumped down onto the muddy riverbank, blowing strands of hair out of his creased, freckled face. "So then, maybe you can tell me why he did it. Why hunt down witches?"

Caius didn't answer at first. His steps followed in a sucking, wet rhythm, eerily close behind Varian. "Because magic is the bane of human existence," he finally spoke, his voice hard and deep with bitter resentment. "It's the reason why the princess was kidnapped, the reason why so many Coronan families were torn apart. It's the reason why those black spikes have sprouted up across the countryside. Oh yes," he said when he saw Varian shoot him a look of alarm. "It's magic, alright. There's no other explanation for it, unless the source is something entirely otherworldly."

Varian retrained his eyes on Rudiger's tail twitching through the grass. "Somehow I doubt that," he admitted. "These rocks have at least some terrestrial properties. The sound they make is similar to obsidian, and their molecular structure, while complex, does have a consistent compound construction, like iron or gold. It's really quite fascinating, if you ignore the fact that they're ripping apart crop fields and literally driving people from their homes." He realized his balled fists were shaking at his sides, and he quickly shook them out before Caius could notice how tense he'd become. "But all that aside, they are growing up out of the earth, which means that their makeup has to come from the planet itself in at least some way. What it doesn't explain is how they seem to have some degree of power output, almost like electricity. I do agree that there's some kind of radial source that they're coming from, since they don't seem to be appearing as far south as I thought they…"

He trailed off when Rudiger stopped up ahead, beneath a familiar rocky foothill. The raccoon turned around once in a circle, then started scratching rapidly behind his ear with his hind leg as Varian and Caius approached the hidden trapdoor. In the light of day, Varian could see that the top of the door was covered in moss, disguising it easily into the ground when it was closed. Caius knelt and examined it, looking down his prominent nose like a scholar sniffing dismissively at an amateur's work. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"

Varian felt something creep up the nape of his neck, something cold and lingering. It dove into his stomach and seeped into his toes, rooting him to the spot like chains.

Caius looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Land's sake, boy. You look like you're ready to piss yourself."

"I do not," Varian snapped. But he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing uncertainly.

"You never did explain how you got stuck with a shaft in your shoulder," Caius noted, his expression unchanged. "Something down here did it to you."

Varian swallowed again, coughed once. His blue eyes flicked to Caius' scarred face. "What do you know about necromancy?" he suddenly asked.

Caius stiffened. "Necromancy?" His gaze turned back towards the trapdoor. "Necromancy," he repeated under his breath. "Of course she would, the foolish, red-headed devil." He drew the sword from his back, the broad blade dark and glimmering in the pale sunlight. It was clear to Varian that the witch hunter wasn't about to let a few undead soldiers stand in his way. He watched Caius lower himself down through the trapdoor, and Rudiger settled anxiously on his master's shoulder as they followed suit.

Varian hadn't realized before how palpable the darkness was inside the crypt. It was almost suffocating after coming from a sunlit world, the eerie atmosphere crawling over his skin like slime. Not even his illuminated staff did much; they were barely able to see their own feet in front of them. "Watch out up ahead," he cautioned as they ventured down the tunnel stairway. "There's a spiked mast that nearly took our heads off when we first came out."

"I see it." Caius ducked underneath the hanging deathtrap, strands of grey hair brushing the metal. "Tell me, boy. You claim to be a scientist. Out of curiosity, how would you attempt to explain away an animated corpse?"

Varian crouched under as he followed. "Recent medical discoveries tell us that the human body runs on its own bioelectricity. The brain issues commands for that energy to stimulate your muscles to move, your heart to pump blood. All body functions stop when you're dead, obviously, but you could theoretically still supply a similar power to cause reanimation. It would be extremely limited, and it would depend on the state of the corpse. You would also need some kind of makeshift command center to act as a rudimentary brain, but that kind of intricacy couldn't be fabricated anyway, at least not in any way I know of."

Caius paused before the closed door at the end of the stairs. He turned to look at Varian with his blind eye. "But that's still not bringing someone back to life."

"Well – no, of course not," Varian stammered. "It's all theory, anyway. I'm not saying that…what exactly is it that you're trying to ask me?"

"Do you think people can come back from the dead?" The question was simple, blunt and heavy in the dark air. When Varian didn't say anything, Caius cracked a small smile. "I see. Your father taught you well enough not to blaspheme."

Varian pursed his lips. "It's just that I have no hard evidence one way or the other." He suddenly remembered Shay's words: _Just because you can't understand something doesn't mean it isn't real._ "All I know for sure is that the things in there are not alive."

Caius nodded in a way that was almost reverent. "We shall see." He smoothed his hand over the door's steel surface, his nose cringing. "Clever hawk placed a ward here." He placed the flat of his sword against it, and a series of runes began to glow along the fuller of the blade. There was a fizzle of red sparks, and the sword stopped glowing. With the ward dispelled, Caius swung back with his leg and struck a hard kick at the door, knocking the steel clean off its hinges. Varian was amazed, not only at the feat of strength, but at the fact that all the water that had flooded the chamber was gone. The floor was even dry as they entered, Varian's feet easily gripping the stone surface.

Haderon's burial chamber stayed dark as they entered. Varian held out his staff, stretching his light out as far as he could. His toes brushed something, and he looked down to see a naked shin bone on the ground. "Easy, boy," he heard Caius murmur when Varian gave a sharp inhale. "You'll only be here for as long as it takes for you to show me where the witch is."

"She's there," Varian pointed in the direction of Haderon's sarcophagus. As they approached it, his staff traced the finely sculpted lines of the necromancer's obsidian statue. "Neither of us could open it; the coffin lid is too heavy to be pushed, and for some reason –"

"Magic didn't work," Caius finished. "Evidence of my point." He sheathed his sword and reached out to touch the marble stone. Something flashed through the air and latched onto his fingers, winding tightly around them and stopping him from making contact. It was a thread of red light, glowing like hot embers against the witch hunter's skin.

Varian whirled to see Shay standing in the doorway to the chamber, tugging back on the magic string with her thin arms. Her cloak had fallen to the ground, and her hair was tied back from her face, enough so that Varian could just barely make out her expression from the light of her red eye. She looked furious, her mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line.

Caius, who hadn't moved, opened his mouth to speak. "What are you doing, little hawk?"

"I'm stopping you from killing us all," she hissed, her entire body shaking. "I searched every book in my mother's house. I found her notes on this place. You can only open Haderon's sarcophagus with a special key. Any other way only invokes his curse. It's how my mother became trapped in his tomb. Haderon is keeping her from escaping with the secrets of his power. We would have suffered the same if we hadn't escaped." Varian felt his stomach clench when she fixed her glare on his stone-hard face. "I would have told you if you hadn't decided to throw your lot in with a warmongering murderer." Her words were bitter and caustic as she jerked back with her hand, tightening the slack of her spell.

"You can't blame the boy for this," Caius mused, ignoring the burning heat of the magical restraint as he turned around. "You can only blame yourself for being so easily manipulated. You haven't even considered the possibility that he's just been using you to get what he wants."

Varian watched Shay's expression slowly change from anger to confusion, then to disbelief. "No," she whispered, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Strands of hair fell into her watering eyes. "No, he…h-he…"

Varian's face softened as he watched her, his eyes widening with realization.

"You're just like your father," Caius spat, yanking his bound arm. Shay resisted at first, but he tugged again, and she was flung forward, skidding through a pile of old bones. The thread dissipated from her trembling hands as she fought to drag herself back to her feet. "So naïve and helpless in the face of the truth. Even your spells are weak because you have no resolve. I always liked that about you. It meant you were nothing like your mother."

It was then that Varian knew which of his two plans to execute. He turned to face the witch hunter. "That's enough, Caius. We're wasting time. The deal was that I would show you where the Crimson Caster is, and you would help me free my father. I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now you get to fulfill yours."

Caius actually rolled his eyes. His sword was suddenly in his hand, the broad blade swinging in a swooping arc towards Varian's neck.

Varian had anticipated the attack long before they'd even entered the chamber; he just managed to duck in time. "Too slow!" The vial was already in his hand, his heartbeat roaring in his ears as he held his breath and threw it against the ground. The formula vaporized on contact with the air, and a plume of violet smoke engulfed the area around the sarcophagus. Caius flinched back, coughing and hacking as he struggled to breathe. Varian yanked his goggles over his eyes and surged forward through the smoke, sprinting to Shay's side. Rudiger followed, close on his heels. Before she could react, Varian grabbed Shay from behind and snatched an arrow from his quiver. He felt her freeze, heard her cry out as he yanked her head back and pressed the tip to her neck.

"Listen to me," he whispered in her ear as Caius started to sweep the smoke away. "We're getting out of here, both of us. I'm not going to hurt you, but he doesn't need to know that. We've got to make this convincing if we're going to save your mom. I need you to trust me!"

Shay's eyes were wild and wavering, her hands clutching desperately at his restraining arm. "How can I?" he heard her gasp.

Varian gritted his teeth. "Because I trust you."

Shay's breath caught in her throat.

The air finally cleared, and Caius began to stride forward, unsheathing his sword. "Very clever, alchemist," he growled. "But do you really think I wouldn't see this coming?"

"That's far enough, old man," Varian called across the chamber, wrenching Shay more clearly into view. "One more step and your niece becomes another addition to this crypt!"

The witch hunter stopped dead when he saw the arrowhead under Shay's chin. His blind eye narrowed to a silver slit of fury, his good eye burning with rage as every visible muscle in his arms tensed like steel cables. He might have expected Varian to make a move against him, but he clearly hadn't anticipated this. "You _dare_ to use my own kin against me? Whether you kill her or not is no matter now when it comes to signing your own death warrant!"

"And just when we were becoming such good friends," Varian sneered, but his heart wavered at the threat. "I suppose it wouldn't be the first time my actions have been vilified." He tapped the arrowhead against Shay's skin. "But it doesn't have to end this way."

A vein pulsed in Caius' strained neck, and he fixed Varian with a look of pure, undiluted spite. "What is it that you want?"

"Hm," Varian pretended to ponder the question for a moment, still holding Shay fast. "Let me think. How about a ham sandwich? I haven't had one of those in a long time. They're kind of hard to find in prison, you know. But I digress. Since a ham sandwich is out of the question at the moment, let's settle for the next best thing: you, backing away from the coffin. Now."

The witch hunter stood completely still for almost an entire minute. Then, he started shifting his feet slowly away from the marble sarcophagus. "Have you not listened to a word I've told you, boy?" he spat out between his teeth. "Magic can't help you save your father, especially hers."

Varian gave a dry chuckle. "I'm sorry. It almost sounds like you expect me to believe you. Did you honestly expect me to take everything you've said at face value? You're more naïve than the girl is. Sword on the ground, or we get to see what color your niece bleeds."

Caius narrowed his mismatched eyes. "You wouldn't kill her," he claimed. "I heard how you had the royal family in your hands, ready to murder the queen. Even when you had nothing to lose, all you had was empty threats. You don't have the spine to kill."

Varian pressed tighter against Shay's throat – not with the arrowhead, but with his thumb. The pressure was enough to make her cry out, but the tip of the arrow pierced through his glove instead, puncturing a small gelatin bead filled with dyed syrup. To Caius, it looked like Varian had made a dangerous cut through Shay's skin. The dye rolled down to her collarbone, a bright red line that made the witch hunter's eyes bulge. "No one tells me what I'm capable of," Varian seethed, his blue eyes burning through his goggle lenses. "Especially you. Now _drop it!_ "

Another long moment of silence. Then, there was a sharp, resonating clang as the witch hunter's sword fell from his hands. "I'll kill you for this," he said solemnly. "For standing in my way…I'll do it with my bare hands if I have to."

Caius had disarmed, but the sword was still within reach. Varian knew it was the best that he could hope for. His next move would have to be swift. If he wasn't quick enough, there was a chance that Caius would be able to make good on his threat. "Get ready," he breathed into Shay's hair.

"For what?"

"This." He tossed her aside, reaching for his father's bow. The instant he let Shay go, Caius was lunging for his sword on the ground, quicker than a leopard from a tree branch. Adrenaline flooded Varian's system as he snatched a special surprise for Caius from his quiver, nocking it to the bowstring. The witch hunter was already surging forward, closing the distance between them as Varian aimed for the man's leg. The arrow he fired was equipped with a sticky bomb; the weight of it was enough to cripple Varian's accuracy, but he wasn't intending to seriously injure Caius. He only needed to get the vial where he wanted it, which was right where Caius was running. The arrow splintered as the vial smashed into the ground, and the sticky pink substance of Varian's trap engulfed the witch hunter's foot, causing him to jerk to a halt in his tracks. He stood less than ten feet away, cursing as he tugged and strained to break free.

"Your cheap tricks will not hold me for long, you impudent whelp!" Caius spat as he sheathed his sword and took a wicked knife from his boot to hack himself loose.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Varian warned as he readied another arrow, just in case. "That compound tends to solidify under friction. You'll only trap yourself more." He glanced over at Shay. "Are you alright?"

Shay glanced over at him. Her arms were trembling at her sides, her dress had a large tear up to her thigh, and her face was contorted by multiple emotions. Aside from a possible few cuts and bruises, she didn't seem to be wounded. She said nothing, but her gaze drifted over to Caius.

"He's your uncle," Varian told her. "What do you think we should do with him?"

"I…" Shay swallowed, blinking rapidly. "I don't know."

Caius paused in his fruitless attempt to free himself, looking up at his niece. "You don't know? Oh, little hawk. You do know. You just don't want to do it. You know there's only one way to keep your mother from the hangman's noose. If you truly wish to save her, you'll have to kill me." He squared his broad shoulders. "There's certainly no better time for it."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Shay whispered. "You want to see me stoop to your level."

"It doesn't have to be you," Varian said, training his arrow at the man's unarmored neck. "You forget that he's standing in my way, too." His lips curled into a vicious snarl. "Just say the word, and I'll put an end to all of this."

"No!" Shay exclaimed, her voice cracking. She sighed shakily, pressing her hand over her red eye. Then she crossed over to him and reached for his arm. "No, no killing," she begged. "There's enough death in this place." Rudiger seemed to mirror the sentiment, tugging at the cuff of Varian's boot with his paws. "I know you don't want to add to it."

Varian resisted at first, then slowly lowered his aim. "No," he agreed quietly, pulling his goggles up with a free hand. "No, I don't." He gave her a side glance, his eyes narrow. "He's not worth it, anyways. But he's still a threat that needs to be dealt with."

Shay nodded once, looking at Caius once more. Varian watched her step forward, just out of arm's reach. She held out her hand and made a swift gesture, breathing a spell between bitter lips. A red thread appeared in the air, like the one she had used before. The glowing strand shot forward and wound itself around the witch hunter's arms, binding him fast. She walked around Caius towards his back, and she snapped her fingers at his sword strap. The blade fell with a clang to the ground, and Varian watched as Shay equipped it with surprising strength, tightening the strap over her own chest.

"Tell me something, little hawk," Caius asked as Shay started to walk back to Varian. "In all the years you've known me, have I ever once claimed that my doings were to harm you?"

Shay stopped, her back facing her uncle. Varian could see every muscle in her body tighten, and her chest began to heave. "I hate you," she hissed suddenly. "I _hate_ you."

"You'll regret not killing me this day," the witch hunter said, his blind eye flickering in Varian's direction. "That witch can't help your father. Even if she could, she'll be dead long before then. I'll make sure of it."

Varian felt a chuckle rise through his chest. "Good luck with that, old man. Guess we'll get to find out whose ambition is greater now, won't we?"


	13. Chapter Twelve: Birds and Memories

**The noonday sun** was bright in the sky as Varian followed Shay back to the Haderon Forest. After what had happened in the crypt, the adrenaline was finally starting to wear off, and a headache spread out through his brain in a painful wildfire. His arms shook when he raised them, and his legs felt like jelly as he climbed over tree roots and up rocky slopes. They walked on for nearly an hour without speaking, their minds muddled and frayed. It felt as though they had just woken up from a nightmare. The only one who didn't seem affected was Rudiger, who scampered back and forth through the tall grass like nothing strange or terrifying had happened.

Eventually, the tension reached a peak, and Varian couldn't take it anymore. "Shay," he spoke into the silence. "Listen, what happened back there –"

"Don't," she cut him off without turning around. Her voice was a terse, husky bark, a tone she was very unused to. A grey frog jumped out of her path, and Rudiger chased noisily after it, his black nose twitching.

Varian reached out to steady himself on a tree trunk. "Will you just stop for a second? Do you even care that we just left him down there? I mean, I don't know if you're aware that my compound wears off in about a day. That doesn't give us much time to –"

Shay whirled on him, her hair flying about her heated face. Varian didn't even have time to brace himself for what he knew was going to be a very hot outburst. "'Us?' _'Us?'_ The walls of my mother's house are thin, Varian Quirinson. I have good ears – I heard everything that Caius said to you last night, and you believed every single word of it!" She was shouting now, broken and hysterical as red sparks started to dance through her black hair. "You say you trust me, but only after what? You had to see just how helpless I was, had to threaten my life – and after I saved yours – so that you could be sure which side to choose?!"

"What other choice did I have?!" Varian shouted back. "I know there's something that you're not telling me about all this. That _never_ spells out trust, no matter what country or kingdom you come from!"

"Like you're one to talk!" Shay retorted. Her hands were literally on fire, illuminating the nasty scrape that had torn her dress. "Prison? Threatening to kill the queen? I know when Caius is lying, and you didn't even _try_ to deny his claims! When exactly were you going to tell me that you're a wanted criminal? Or was it always going to be strictly need-to-know?!"

Varian's brain stalled for an instant. "It's not what you think," he ground out between his teeth.

Shay clapped her flaming hands to her sides. "Of course not. You probably don't even believe that I _can_ think, do you?"

"Oh, don't make this a sexist issue! I don't expect anyone to understand. How could they when even the princess herself knew what was going on and _still_ didn't keep her promise?" Varian didn't even realize it, but he had started tugging his equipment off, tossing his satchel to the ground as he struggled to breathe. It felt like the entire forest was closing in on him, suffocating him, threatening to drown him in its leering shadows. "Do you know what it's like to be screaming in a crowd of people and no one can hear you?!" He threw his gloves into the grass, flung his coat to the side. "I did what had to be done because it was the only way to even get _noticed_ , let alone find the answers that I needed! And you know what I got out of it? NOTHING!"

He broke off, panting, waiting for Shay to speak. She looked shaken, her eyebrows a stormy, rigid line over her startled gaze. The fire in her fingers had started to die. Varian's eyes bored into hers as he gave a shaky sigh. "Nothing," he continued, wetting his lips. "Just a dead flower and a princess' pity." He set his back to the tree trunk and slid to the ground, sitting on its gnarled root with his arms over his knees. He curled and uncurled his naked fingers, trying to air out his sweaty palms. "I knew I could trust you by the face you made. The princess made the same expression, that innocent disbelief, when I betrayed her. No one can fake a face like that."

Shay asked the question: "What happened?"

Varian started at the beginning, from the day the princess first came to his house in the village, asking about her strange, golden hair. He told her about when the black rocks began to appear in the fields, about his father's audience with the king. He even told her about the science exposition, the embarrassment he'd suffered there. He told her about his failed experiments, the one that cost him everything. He told her about the princess Rapunzel's broken promise and neglect. He told her about the day he was imprisoned. He told her everything, and she listened without a single interruption.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone," he finished. "All I ever wanted was to help. I was supposed to be village leader someday, to set an example for the people. Now it's a future I'll never have." He checked his thumb where the dye had leaked out. His pale skin was stained red, the dark and angry color seeping under his nail. "I swore that I would free my father if it's the last thing I ever do. My dad is all I have left. And I can't –" His voice cracked, and tears welled in his eyes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I _won't_ accept the possibility that I'll never be able to free him. My dad seemed to trust your mother. Or, at least, she trusted him, enough to leave him with a map to find her. I have to believe that if I can free her, she'll have some idea of what I can do." He looked up at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you understand? I can't give up now, not after everything I've done. There has to be a way."

They stood there under the trees, quiet and still. Shay fixed the ground with a watery stare, flicking a stray tear from her smudged cheek. A gentle breeze whistled through the leaves, rustling as silver branches wavered overhead. The wind tangled Varian's unkempt hair, dark and blue strands floating in and out of his view. Rudiger returned, his fur mussed and damp from tumbling through a nearby stream. He crawled into Varian's lap, purring contentedly into his chest. Varian stroked the raccoon, his heartbeat slowing as the creature's fur calmed his trembling fingers. He wasn't sure how long it was before Shay finally spoke.

"Varian," she said, her voice soft again. "I need to get to the capitol. I have to find Xavier. He's the only one who can help. But…" She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know the way."

Rudiger leapt out of the way as Varian rose to his feet. "I do," he mumbled as he gathered his things. "I can take you there."

"No," Shay anxiously stammered. "It's too dangerous for you, and I-I see that now. You can draw me a map –"

"Caius will be coming," Varian insisted. "I'm no safer here, and neither are you. There's nothing in it for me if I stay here, anyway." He closed the distance between them and stood there, weary but resolute. "I don't know if you could ever trust me again, and by this point, I don't expect you to. But you're the closest thing to a friend I have now. You asked me if we were in this together. I know I've done terrible things. I don't know if I can make up for them...but I'm going to try."

He expected her to turn away, to tell him everything he expected to hear. She had to be angry, how could she not be? But Shay started to wring her hands instead, biting her lip. "Varian," she whispered, staring into the air over his shoulder. "I don't know if my mother can help you."

Varian coughed out a single, dry chuckle. "I knew that from the start, remember? It's still a better chance than anything else the world has given me. Besides, I…" He became sober once more. "I'm in your debt, Shay. The least I can do is try to keep you safe, after everything you've done for me. Of course, I suppose I haven't done a very good job of that so far, but…What?"

Shay eyes had finally moved to meet his. Her face had crumpled into the same wistful, vulnerable look she'd given him the night they'd escaped the crypt. She reached out hesitantly, and Varian's eyes widened as she gave him a very gentle, very unexpected hug. She barely touched him, like she was embracing a frightened animal, afraid that he would run away. But it had been a long time since Varian had been shown any sort of affection, and it pierced his heart like he'd been shot again. He drew her close and held her, his chest compressing with emotion until he couldn't breathe. He could feel her heart beating fast, like a little bird that had once flown into his room in Old Corona. It had been a pretty bird, soft and grey with a white downy breast. It had made beautiful sounds as he had coaxed it back to the open window, releasing it into the fresh spring air. The memory was sweet; it reminded him of better days. Having someone hold him made him dare to believe that there could be days like that again, days when he could smile and know that what he was doing was right. Even when he let go of her, he still grasped the feeling and folded it carefully away in his mind, so he wouldn't forget it.

"We shouldn't waste time," he told her. "We need to get moving, before your uncle catches up to us."

* * *

Eugene had just returned to the campfire with more dry wood in his hands when he saw Rapunzel sitting by the flames, her eyes wide and red with sleeplessness. It was late into the night; even Cassandra was asleep, adding to the cacophony of noise their companions produced in their deep slumber.

"Blondie?" he asked as he set his stack of wood down and sat next to her by the fire. The lively embers caused her gold locks to shimmer in sheets around her. "There a reason why you're up so late? Not that you have a curfew or anything, heaven forbid I enforce something like that on a princess."

Rapunzel sighed, poking at a loose log with a prodding stick. Pascal was asleep on her head; the chameleon licked his lips once, as if tasting a fly in his dreams.

"Oh, dear," Eugene scratched the back of his neck. "I know that sigh by now. You either stepped in something earlier, or you had a nightmare."

"No," Rapunzel grumbled, her full lips pursing into a pout. "Not a nightmare, exactly. Just…"

Eugene stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. "Come on, Blondie. What's on your mind? I know a lot of crazy things have been happening lately – which is a complete understatement, now that I've said it out loud."

Rapunzel sighed again, lifting her eyes towards the star-strewn sky. The moon stretched out in a wide circle above them, sprinkling pale streams of light over the darkened landscape. "I had a dream about what happened last year, in Old Corona. Varian was there, in his automaton suit-machine-thing, but he couldn't control it. I was reaching out to the black rocks, trying to use them like I had back then. But when I reached for them, they started moving away from me. Then I saw someone I've never seen before. A woman with red hair and a strange voice, calling out to me." She shook her head helplessly. "She seemed familiar, but I don't remember meeting anyone like her. Then I woke up, and I couldn't get back to sleep."

"Well, of course you couldn't," Eugene said whimsically. "You were dreaming about Varian, the crazy kid, instead of me, so you had to come see me in the real world. It's completely understandable." He cleared his throat when his jest received only a small smile from his favorite girl. "Look, all jokes aside, sometimes dreams are just that. Every once in a while, you have a weird and wacky dream that involves vengeful teenaged alchemists and temperamental magic rock-spike-things, and it doesn't actually have any meaning. Not that I would know personally – the few dreams I actually remember when I wake up are about lounging on a beach or sharing a very passionate kiss with you. Sometimes both."

"Eugene!"

Eugene held up his hands. "I'm just saying! It's just your brain dusting cobwebs, and there's a little navel lint mixed in with it, and it all gets aired out in the light of day."

Rapunzel gave a weak laugh. "Maybe you're right, Eugene. Maybe I'm just trying too hard to see something that isn't there." Her face became somber once more. "But it makes me wonder. We have to go back to Corona eventually. I guess I'm just worried…what are we going to find there? What will be waiting for us?"

Eugene took her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm. "Our future, Rapunzel. That's what waits for us there."


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Vagabonds

**Wind whistled in** Varian's ears as he opened his eyes to a darkened meadow. The sky overhead was black as a shroud, no stars or moon to light his surroundings. He sat up and looked around, trying to find a path. To where, he wasn't sure. He just knew that he had to find the way. He stood and reached to brush himself off and saw that he was wearing his father's clothes. Somehow, they fit perfectly, and he understood why; he had taken his father's form, as if he was seeing things through a memory or a vision. The underbrush around him shifted and shimmered in a bleary haze, crystal lights floating between willowy threads of dewy grass.

 _Quirin,_ he heard a voice speak behind him. He whirled to see a woman standing there, her expression both curious and concerned. She was shorter than Varian – though his father was taller than anyone else he knew – with a head of long, grey-streaked red hair tied back from her ageless face. She was thin, almost underweight, and her eyes were mismatched: one was a tawny orange, the other a bright, solid crimson. Varian couldn't recall ever seeing this woman before, but at the same time, he knew who she was.

 _Lyra,_ he heard himself speak, but it was his father's voice. The words came without prompting, as if their conversation was scripted. As if they had spoken the same before. _Is it true? He killed Cain?_

The Crimson Caster's face twitched once, a flash of pain slicing in a terrible wince between her eyes. _You understand now why we had to leave, Quirin._ She sounded resigned, regretful. _If I stay, I will be a danger to you, your son, and everyone else in Old Corona._

 _And the girl? What about your child? She was the reason why you came to live here in the first place, to give her a normal life._

 _That future is no longer possible for her,_ the Crimson Caster spoke. _Caius has made sure of that. I've taken her with me,_ _to a place where no one can find us._ She took from the folds of her cloak a rolled-up piece of parchment. _No one but you. You've done more for me and my family than I could ever repay. Should you ever have need of my power, this will show you the way._

Varian felt himself reach out to take the map, his fingers trembling in the heavy air. He was just about to touch it when the world suddenly went dark, and he was falling again. He awoke with a start, his blue eyes wide and staring at the table grain. He jerked upwards, realizing with horror that he'd fallen asleep. He was supposed to awaken Shay at dusk, after he'd finished packing his things. He'd insisted she get some sleep before they left, and she'd told him to grab everything he needed before she awoke. He'd only sat down to rest for a moment; he must have been more tired than he'd realized. Lurching from his chair, he fled to the window and saw that the light had faded completely from the meadow outside. Rudiger jumped with a start as Varian dashed to the stairs and climbed to he second floor. He rapped his knuckles on the door to Shay's bedroom. "Shay," he called. "It's past time now. We need to hurry."

A few moments later, Shay emerged, her hair bedraggled and her face still flushed with sleep. She wore a short red shift over a dark grey shirt, a pair of well-worn trousers, and black boots – an outfit she must have worn for gardening, but was now going to serve as her travel wear. She was about to say something about the time, then noticed the red table marks on Varian's cheek. "I see," she said under her breath, squeezing past him and down the stairs. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah," Varian answered from behind, watching his feet as Killy darted past him. "I try to travel light." He watched as Shay stepped past the table and retrieved a dark leather cloak from a cabinet drawer. "Caius will come here first," he pointed out as she tied the cloak around her shoulders.

"I know," Shay said; a note of fear was in her voice. "But he won't be able to get in. I'll make sure of that this time." She reached under the table for the witch hunter's sword and strapped it on her back once more. "But we'll have to be outside first."

Varian was the last to leave, double-checking to make sure nothing important of his was left behind. As they stepped out into the brisk night air, he looked to see Shay retrieve a wood stick from the side of the house. She placed the tip into the ground and began to draw a line around the exterior of the cabin, disappearing around the back and reappearing on the other side. "You're going to cast a spell."

Shay nodded, tossing the stick aside. "It's a complicated spell," she said worriedly. "I've never cast it before. I've never had a need to."

"Shay, if it's too dangerous, I can set up a trap."

She shook her head. "No. This is my house. It's my responsibility to protect it." Her anxious expression became determined. "I can't let Caius enter this place. Not again. _Never_ again. You might want to step back."

Rudiger scampered to Varian's side as he watched from a distance, listening to Shay begin a very long incantation. The words were Celtic, her pronunciation clear and practiced. She made small gestures, her voice soft at first as she read from her mother's spellbook. Her tone grew louder, her arms moving wider, as the circle around the cabin began to glow and throb with red light. The circle grew upwards, flowing like a cyclone of water through the air as it encompassed the house like an egg shell, sparks winking and fizzling into the night sky. Varian braced himself, his muscles tensing as he anticipated the same rebound as the last time she'd attempted such a spell. The light cascaded into a dome, and a single, melodious note hummed in his ears. Then Shay brought her hands streaking down, and the light dissipated. She swayed on the spot, and Varian rushed to grab her before she fell.

"You okay?"

Shay nodded, her fingers kneading her temple. "It can be draining to cast larger spells. Normally, you don't cast them alone. I'll be fine, I think."

Varian let her go with a shrug. "If you say so. What exactly did you do, anyway?"

"It's like the ward I cast on the exit door to the crypt," Shay explained, "or the one you broke on the entrance. It's different though, more dangerous. It's not just a lock or a wall. It will hurt you if you touch it. You also can't see it, so it should take Caius by surprise." She glanced nervously down at the circle etched into the ground. "At least, as long as he doesn't notice the line I had to draw."

"We can't worry about it now," Varian placed a hand on her shoulder. "We need to get moving before he gets here. The capitol is about five days away on foot. I hope you like long walks."

"Killy," Shay looked to the hare. "We need to head north. Will you show us the way?"

Varian's staff illuminated the path that Killy took into the dark forest, and he found his footsteps were full of energy as they followed. The night was chilly, the fall breeze settling on his skin in a fine, misty blanket. The uneven ground seemed to level out before him, and moonlight fell in silvery threads between the trees.

He noticed Shay straggling behind, almost ten paces away. "You sure you can carry that?" He pointed out the sword on her back.

"I have to," Shay answered as she caught up. "It's much lighter than it looks. It's made from a special metal, from across the seas."

"Oh yeah?" Varian's interest was piqued. "It wouldn't be Japanese carbon steel, would it?"

"I – yes," Shay blinked in surprise. "How do you –"

"I never asked my dad for very much," Varian smirked. "At least, he didn't think books were a big deal." He continued as they walked on. "Not much is known about the lands across seas, but Corona is always looking for new methods of weapons crafting. I'm not sure how the blade itself would be crafted, but the metal is extraordinary. Since it's steel, there's a great deal of iron in the composition, which means that the secret lies in how the alloy is forged. Now, I'm no blacksmith, but my theory is that the metal is actually folded to arrange the molecular structure in a way no one in Corona's observed. I can understand now why you wouldn't want to leave that sword behind. It's very valuable."

"I'm sure it is," Shay agreed quietly. "But I wouldn't trade this sword for anything."

Varian's eyebrows twitched. "Why?"

"Because it was my father's sword."

"What?" Varian stopped in his tracks. "What did you say?"

"It was my father's," Shay repeated.

Varian frowned. "Then why did Caius…Oh." His eyes widened. "Oh, I see. I-I didn't –"

"It's alright," Shay reassured him. She reached behind her and, with difficulty, managed to unsheathe the sword. She held it carefully with both hands, the moonlight shimmering across the blade. "It's called Spellbane. It was given to my father by the keeper of an ancient spire, somewhere beyond the borders of Corona. It was made to battle magic."

"Makes sense, with the name," Varian said reverently. "I've never seen anything like it. It's beautiful." He glanced up at her. "So then…your dad really was a witch hunter?"

Shay nodded slowly, returning the sword to its scabbard. "He was the captain of the guard, in service to the king. I'm not supposed to know that, though." Her face fell. "I'm sure there are many more things my mother has kept from me, things that she never wrote in her journal."

Varian nodded, and they started walking forward again. It made sense why the Crimson Caster would want to keep her husband's background a secret from her daughter. How could she explain that he was a witch hunter when she was a witch herself? "Can I ask you something? If your dad was a witch hunter, how did he settle down with your mom?" Fragments of his strange, hazy dream came floating back to memory, like pieces of cobwebs drifting in the wind. "I mean, it's pretty obvious she loved him."

Shay's breath caught. "How do you know that?"

Varian took an instant to panic; there was no way he could explain his strange dream without sounding like a lunatic, especially when he could barely remember any of it. He quickly shrugged. "Well, I mean, they had you, didn't they? And then, of course, there's considering the possible reason why she went into a necromancer's crypt."

Shay's lips slowly twisted into a mask of shock.

"Come on, you can't tell me you haven't thought about why she –"

"Varian!" Shay hissed, dropping low. Varian glanced behind him and saw that they had finally reached the edge of the Haderon Forest. The trees had thinned out, and orange light could be seen flickering through the branches. Torch light. Varian ducked into the brush, stifling the light of his staff in the bush Shay had hid behind as he crawled over to her. Rudiger sniffed his way under Varian's elbow, and he saw Killy's eyes blink at him from the depths of the bush. They kept quiet and still, peering carefully to see if the torch light would fade.

"I still don't understand why the captain has us bordering the entire forest," they heard a gruff voice grumble. "The perimeter alone is ridiculous. Why would the alchemist would come to place like this?"

"Don't know," they heard another voice answer. "All I know is that scouts tracked him to somewhere around these parts. We've got men investigating the village down the river now, to see if anyone's seen him there."

Varian cursed under his breath. "I thought I'd lost them after I left Old Corona. Guess the royal guard is more competent than people give them credit for." He noticed Shay's look of alarm. "We need to find a way past these guys. Any ideas?"

"A distraction?" She suggested.

"No," Varian shook his head. "A distraction is too risky. We need to avoid them seeing anything of either of us without raising any kind of suspicion."

Shay's brow furrowed. "I'd use an invisibility spell, but it wouldn't work on the sword."

"Can't have that," Varian ground his knuckles into his forehead. "Think, think."

"Hey," One of the guards spoke up again. "Did you hear something?"

The orange light moved closer to the trees. "Yeah. It's probably just an animal."

The first guard swallowed loudly. "What if it's a bear?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the other guard hissed. "Bears only travel these parts in the fall."

"It _is_ the fall, you nitwit!" Shay inhaled sharply when they heard a sword sing into the night air. "Cover me. I'm going to go check it out."

"Absolutely not," they heard the other guard almost shout. "Captain's orders were clear: no going into the forest, period."

The first guard coughed. "I'm not going to travel through the entire wood! I'm just going to check out the edge."

Varian anxiously racked his brains. "Maybe if we can convince them…" He glanced at Rudiger. "Rudiger wouldn't work. They know I have a racoon with me, but if they think it's just a harmless animal…"

"Killy," Shay looked to the hare. The creature blinked, then shot out from the bush, streaking in a blur out into the open. They heard the guards make feminine shrieks of alarm, then the orange torch light started to move away.

One of the guards chuckled nervously. "Hehe, it was just a rabbit!"

"You idiot," the other guard said. "It's too big to be a rabbit."

"Guh! W-well, what is it, then?"

"A hare, you nimrod."

The first guard sniffed dismissively. "Oh, right. I mean, I knew that."

As they chuckled to themselves and cooed at how cute Killy was, Varian carefully snuck forward, reaching into his bag for a small, green vial. He bit his lip as he pressed against a tree trunk and peeked cautiously around the grey bark. He heard Shay gasp as he tossed the vial out into the open, and a green plume of gas engulfed the orange light past the trees. Just as he'd hoped, the guards were too distracted by Killy to even notice.

"Hey," one of the guards said. "Do you think I can keep it? My daughter's always wanted a…ohhhhh…" There was a thump and a clink of metal as the guard fell over. The other guard pointed out his partner's prone state before he too passed out, falling over with a snore.

"Careful," Varian beckoned to Shay as the cloud faded. "It's harmless, but potent. They'll be out for an hour or two. Thirty minutes if they have high metabolisms." He glanced at one of the guards as he stepped out into the open and snuffed the torch with his foot. "Judging by that one's belt size, I doubt it." He noticed that Killy had been caught in the sleeping smoke's radius; the hare had fallen onto his side, his leg twitching in the air. "Oh. Whoops."

Shay rushed to the hare and scooped him up into her arms, holding him like a baby. "Will he be alright?"

"He'll be fine," Varian reassured her. "Rudiger's been exposed to it before, haven't you?" The racoon sneezed, fixing Varian with a pointed glare. "He'll just be out for longer. He should wake up in the morning."

Shay blew on the hare's downy head, and his ear twitched once. "Well done, little one." She stared worriedly at the sleeping guards. "I didn't realize we would be meeting opposition this soon into the trip."

"Me either," Varian apologized. "This could be even more difficult than I imagined. If the captain of the guard is in charge of all this, that means every lawman in Corona is going to be sniffing around for me." He smirked wickedly. "I wonder how much the bounty on my head is?"

Shay shivered. "I don't think we should dwell on it."

Varian nodded, his smirk fading. "No, you're right. It doesn't matter anyway because we won't get caught." He stooped to pick up the broken shards of the vial he'd thrown; any evidence like that would immediately tip the guards off when they woke up. "There's a little town called Newbarth, about thirt miles north. We might reach it by tomorrow evening if we keep a steady pace. Let's go."

They made their way quietly across the fields, creeping carefully over slopes and around rocky outcroppings. Varian led the way, Rudiger tailing close on his heels. The sound of crickets chirping mingled with the sharp cries of bats as they flew in lazy streaks overhead, catching moths and stray gnats as they fluttered by.

"What's Killy's story?" Varian asked after a while.

Shay shifted the sleeping hare in her arms. "I found him two years ago, just outside of Ghislaine. He was caught in a snare with a broken leg, half-starved and scared witless. I took him home and nursed him back to health. I tried to release him, but he wouldn't leave. I think he took pity on me when he realized I was all alone." Her voice fell to a whisper. "I didn't mind."

"He was probably afraid he'd get caught again," Varian said. "Watch your step. It's still damp here from the storm the other day."

"What about you?" Shay asked.

"What about me?"

"Your racoon. How did you meet him?"

"Oh," Varian glanced sheepishly at Rudiger. "I, uh, I caught him in a trap. Not the kind of trap you think," he stammered. "About two years ago, the villagers were complaining about pests getting into their gardens. They were going to set up snares, like the one you were talking about. I don't know, something about it didn't feel right to me. I thought I could come up with a more humane solution. So, I made this." He paused to pull out one of his sticky bombs for her to see. "It's the same stuff I used on Caius. Of course, I have a dissolvent for it. Most of my compounds are failsafe that way." His mind drifted to the serum that had trapped his father, and a drop of bitterness soured his stomach. "Most of them. Anyway, catching Rudiger proved my experiment was a success. I released him outside the village, but he showed up the next day, in the same trap." He made a bashful wince. "I guess you're not the only one who was taken pity on."

"I don't pity you," Shay told him quietly.

"Oh, no?" Varian stopped on the bank of a trickling stream, staring at her. "Just what do you think of me, then? I mean, besides the fact that I'm extremely intelligent and devastatingly handsome?"

Shay actually laughed, but her cheeks turned red. "Sorry. I…" She chewed her lip as she tried to find the words. "I think that…you're kinder than you realize. And brave."

Varian chuckled, but the sound was weak, and his ears were burning. "I was just joking, you know."

Shay slowly shook her head. "I wasn't."

A lump grew in Varian's throat, and he swallowed it with a loud gulp. "I, uh…I-I just, um…th-there's a spot up ahead where we can take a break. O-or I mean, if you don't want to, but i-it would probably be a…you know, a good idea."

Shay said nothing about Varian's panicked stammering and glanced up at the brightening sky. "Oh my. Is it really morning already? I didn't realize we had been walking for so long."

Varian unstrung his bow as they sat down under a rock ledge blanketed in emerald moss, munching on the loaf of bread Shay had brought. "It's not ham," she apologized, "but it's something."

Varian blinked at her with his cheeks full. "Your 'something' is pretty good," he said around his mouthful, spewing crumbs. He swallowed and took a swig from a flask of water, staring out across the Coronan landscape. "You know, when I was a kid, I used to pretend I was Demanitus, the legendary inventor." He passed the flask over to her. "I'd go on adventures in my head with Flynn Rider. We'd travel across the countryside, find ancient artifacts, and rescue damsels in distress. Then I met the real Flynn Rider, except that's not his name, apparently." He planted his chin in his hand. "He's the one who saved the princess from some hidden tower."

Shay finished drinking and set the flask down. "What was she like?"

"The princess?" Varian shrugged. "When she wasn't breaking promises, she was…nice. Naïve, but nice. Then again, I was naïve, too."

"Was she pretty?"

Varian thought back. "Sure, I guess. Not as pretty as some other girls I'd seen around the castle, but…" His face turned red when he remembered Cassandra. "None of it matters now, anyway. It's not like I'll ever see them again, at least not on good terms."

Shay fingered Killy's twitching ear. "They?"

"The princess and her…her handmaiden," Varian coughed uncomfortably.

"You liked her handmaiden?" Varian finally glanced over at Shay and saw that she was wearing an almost impish smile.

"It – I mean, I…Well, she was at least ten years older than me." The words tumbled out of Varian in a series of clumsy mumbles. "So it's not like anything could have come of it. But she was gorgeous. She even saved my life once. And then I…" His face fell, and his voice became bitter with resentment. "Then I threatened her, along with everyone else." He fixed his somber gaze on Shay. "Like how I threatened you." He stood and brushed himself off. "I'm not a hero, Shay," he said suddenly. "Don't expect me to be one."

Killy stirred in Shay's arms, his eyes blinking open. He lifted his head, his ears swerving up and to the side as Rudiger approached and started sniffing the hare's sleepy face. Shay's face brightened, and she kissed Killy's head before setting him on the ground. He scampered into the brush, and Rudiger followed, his ringed tail swishing back and forth through the tall grass.

"No one's asking you to be a hero, Varian," Shay murmured as she watched the hare bound away. "But I do believe you can make things right." She looked at him, her red eye catching the sunlight as morning broke over the horizon. "I think you believe it, too. I don't think you would have come this far if you didn't."

Varian let her words sink in, his skin hot as a sudden breeze picked up and buffeted his coat. He strung his bow and turned away from Shay as he slung it over his shoulder. "Why do you believe in me so much?" By some miracle, he was able to keep his voice from cracking.

Shay's answer was soft and simple, and he felt her fingers gently pinch his sleeve as she slowly came up from behind. "Because you're my friend." She let go as Killy returned with his cheeks stuffed full of dandelion leaves. Rudiger's fur was stained with juice as he reappeared, and he sat back on his haunches to stuff a handful of berries into his toothy mouth. "Come on. The sooner we reach Xavier, the better."

"Right." Varian watched her step out of the rock's shadow and head back towards the stream. "Shay!" he called out. She stopped and looked back at him. "How long do we have to be friends before you tell me that secret you're hiding from me?"

Shay opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. She ducked her head, sighing. "It's not that I don't want to, Varian," she admitted. "It's that it's not my secret to tell."

Varian reached and tugged at his blue lock of hair. "It wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?"

"I don't know," Shay answered. "And I swear, that's the truth."

Varian gave a sigh of his own and decided to let it go. "Newbarth is still hours away," he said as he made his way to her. "I know we're both tired, but if we can reach it by nightfall, we might be able to sleep in beds instead of the hard ground."

"Do we have money for rooms?" Shay asked as she fell into pace beside him.

"I have some silver on me, courtesy of my dad. It's not like he has any use for it right now." He sucked in a deep breath of crisp, fall air. "I'll have to pay him back once we've freed him." Crickets chirped as they jumped out of his wake, leaping back and forth on tall stalks of weeds. Dew blazed as the sun continued to climb in the sky, and willow trees swayed in lazy shimmers of green and yellow. A dirt highway dipped in and out of sight as they wound up and down rolling hills, its brown trail tracing a thin line in the distance.

After a little while, Shay started to sing very quietly:

* * *

 _Where is your home, vagabond?_

 _Where do you go when you don't belong?_

 _Head held high, but your soul is down_

 _Where is your home, vagabond?_

* * *

 _You pass people and faces you don't recognize_

 _Like past feelings and places you once felt alive_

* * *

 _Where is your home, vagabond?_

 _Where is your home when it all is done?_

 _Can't put down roots because you won't last long_

 _Everything here will all be gone*_

* * *

As they approached a nearby patch of woods, she petered off and cleared her throat. "It's not a very cheerful song, I suppose," she whispered, "but it's one of the few I know. My mother used to sing it, when she was working in the garden." Tears welled in her eyes. "I miss her."

Considering what he'd been through, Varian understood what she was feeling. "What can you tell me about her?" he tried. "What's she like?"

Shay blinked the tears away. "She's very beautiful. She works hard, and she loves nature. She would teach me all sorts of things, like how to write and how to grow plants. She taught me how to sew and how to cast spells without setting things on fire."

Varian chuckled. "Sounds like you have a knack for that sort of thing."

"For magic?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean for fire." Varian jumped down off a steep slope. Rudiger leapt down onto his shoulder as he turned to help Shay. "So, what makes a person able to do magic? Is it something anyone can learn?"

"I believe there's a little magic in everyone," Shay answered as she handed Killy down to him. "Silly as it sounds."

Varian reached to catch her as she jumped down. "I don't think so."

Shay smiled weakly. "It's idealistic and…frightening."

"How so?" Varian asked as they entered a grove of oak trees. The answer came to him before she could give it. "Oh, I see. You mean that if everyone has the potential for magic, that includes bad people."

She nodded, fiddling with the hem of her apron. "Caius wasn't completely wrong when he told you magic can be hurtful. But it only hurts if it's used improperly."

Varian raised an eyebrow. "Like necromancy?"

Shay stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat.

"There's no other reason why your mother would go down into Haderon's crypt, Shay. Everything that we found down there points to only one answer." Varian narrowed his eyes at her. "The question is why. I have a pretty good idea, but do you?"

"She…" The wind had died; Shay's quiet voice seemed to fill the entire grove. "She missed my father so much. She loved him more than anything. He was all she had, all she ever wanted. The day he was killed…I don't think she completely blamed Caius for his death. I think she blamed herself. She wasn't there to save him."

Varian didn't realize he was shaking his head. "So, she looked for a way to bring him back from the dead?"

"I thought she was researching healers." Shay wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if she was going to be sick. "At least, that's what she told me. I thought she was going to create a new elixir to cure diseases, to help increase our profits in Ghislaine. I didn't think she was trying to find a way to raise Papa from the dead!" They stood there, waiting for the breeze to return. Rudiger and Killy had frozen in the grass, staring up at their masters with curious eyes. When Shay spoke again, her voice was crisp and defiant. "My mother is not a bad person, Varian."

"I'm not saying she is, Shay." Varian countered. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm the last person who should be judging your family. All I'm saying is…let's hope sharing a coffin with a necromancer for seven years has made her see things differently, that's all."

But even as they exited the grove and continued on, Varian felt something cold seep into the pit of his stomach, like the draught Shay had given him the night he'd been injured. The fact still remained that the Crimson Caster was his best chance at finding a way to free his father. But what else would he have to deal with once he had the chance to ask her for her help? He'd already dealt with the undead once now, and once was more than enough for him. He didn't want to relive that experience.

But he couldn't resolve the issue now. First, they had to find Xavier. Before Varian could face the possibility of fighting the undead once more, he had to deal with the living first. And the living were more than bones and magic.

 _I just wish I knew what this meant,_ he thought to himself as strands of blue drifted past his eyes. Shay said she believed there was magic in everyone. If that was true, what sort of magic could Varian have? And if he had any, how would he use it?

 _To free my father,_ he answered himself. _To make things right, the way only I can._ As the hours blended together and the day slipped into dusk, he led Shay over one last hill to view the town of Newbarth. _Royal guards, witch hunters, necromancers…with whatever power I have, I'll take them all on if I have to._

* * *

*"Vagabond" - Original song by Tommee Profitt, Feat. Fjora


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Moonlight Revelations

"And just how exactly did you two end up passing out at your post?!"

As the afternoon drifted into fiery sheets of dusk, the guards, who had finally awoken from their alchemy-induced slumber, glanced embarrassedly at each other. The first one cleared his throat nervously. "Well, sir, you see, we don't…exactly…know."

The interrogating lieutenant abruptly stopped his furious pacing in front of the woods. He looked like he was about ready to have a conniption. "You both realize," he fumed, "that your little naptime will not only reflect poorly on my report. It will get you both discharged on account of falling asleep in the line of duty while on an assignment to capture one of the most _dangerous_ criminals i _n all of Corona!_ " Spittle flew from his livid mouth, and he paused to wipe a fleck from the corner of his snarling lips. "You think the captain is someone to fear? How about the king when he finds out you just might have given our convict the opportunity he needed to escape, thereby rendering our assignment out here completely futile?!"

When silence followed the lieutenant's outburst, the other guard spoke. "Sir, with all due respect, we've taken this assignment very seriously. We were trained from day one – never fall asleep while on post. What I'm trying to say is –"

"Excuses," the lieutenant hissed. "There's no evidence, no other indication, that there's any other reason for you both fell asleep in the line of duty!"

"Actually, gentlemen, there is."

The voice came from a man emerging from the forest, smoothing back his greying hair as he stepped out into the open. The three soldiers immediately produced their crossbows, leveling them squarely in the man's direction. "Who are you?" the lieutenant barked. "Identify yourself immediately!"

The man raised his arms. "My name is Caius, and I mean you no harm."

The first guard began to quake and shudder. "Are you th-the one who knocked us out?!"

Caius rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I have no reason for it, and if I did, I would have done a better job than the one who did." He lowered his arms, his hands still held open at his sides. "As you can see, I am unarmed."

The lieutenant wasn't buying it. "You're unarmed, but your armored? You expect me to believe you're not dangerous?"

"Oh, I am dangerous," Caius clarified. "But at the moment, I share a common interest with the house of Corona. You're looking for an escaped criminal, are you not? Young man, skinny, blue eyes, dark hair with a streak, travels with a racoon. Is that correct?"

The guards glanced at each other. "That fits his description to a T," the second guard whispered.

"So, you've seen him, then?" The lieutenant kept his crossbow ready. "The alchemist?"

"I have," Caius answered with a blink. "And I know where he's going."

The lieutenant sneered. "And why should I believe you?"

Caius remained stationary, but he peered at the man's decorations. "What's your name, lieutenant?"

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "Yeager."

"Lieutenant Yeager, you and your men are wasting your time here." Caius stepped forward, aiming the second guard's crossbow away with a firm hand. "I would love to tell you why and where your target has fled, but I feel less inclined to divulge that information when I'm being threatened."

Yeager held his breath. "Lower your weapons," he ordered stiffly. "I can't exactly give my men a new assignment. My orders come from the captain of the royal guard."

Caius fixed the lieutenant with a look that could only be described as condescending. "You can send a scout, can't you? Or is this your first day on the job?"

"You know something?" Yeager raised his crossbow once more. "Every word out of your mouth makes me want to see how much it'll take to make you bleed."

"You'd still be wasting your time, just as you are now." Caius folded his arms. "Tell your captain you've found a lead on the whereabouts of your runaway alchemist. Better than that, tell him you've found a…consultant on the matter. It would serve Corona's best interests if we work together, Lieutenant." He gave a small, cold smile. "I think in time, you'll find that you'll agree."

* * *

Newbarth was a peculiar town, for a number of reasons. For one thing, it wasn't built next to any major body of water; its people subsisted from a handful of ancient, manmade wells that had been dug centuries before settlers had established the town. For another thing, despite being small, Newbarth was busy, full of traders and travelers looking for a place to rest before making the final stretch through untamed Coronan territory, usually towards the capitol or towards Vardaros in the south. For those who didn't seek out Newbarth as a pitstop, more permanent residents were not found lacking in years or financial credit; they were very rich, very privileged, and very old, using the funds they'd saved over the years to settle down in their artificial oasis in the middle of Corona's countryside.

Since it was a popular spot for travelers to spend the night, Newbarth's main source of economy was in its many inns and taverns, each outfitted with some of the best accommodations Corona could offer. As such, the town was also a den of gossip, crime and politics being the topics most often discussed:

"I heard that that woman escaped from prison again. Cayley or Caren, something like that."

"I believe the name is Caine, dear."

"Oh, but didn't you know? She escaped the same night as that wizard!"

"What wizard? I don't know anything about a wizard."

"They say he blew up half of the capitol, riding off on a wild beast."

"You're just making up nonsense, again. There are no such things as wizards or wild beasts."

"Well, wizard or not, I'll bet my pension that he has something to do with those strange black spikes sprouting up out of the ground."

"That wizard – wasn't he involved with the princess?"

"Nah, I heard it was her handmaiden."

"No, no, no, not that sort of involvement! I meant he tried to assassinate the royal family."

"Didn't I tell you to stop speaking nonsense?"

As the town dipped into evening and the noise of rumors and chatter began to fill the streets, Varian stared openly at the wanted poster plastered to the bulletin outside a bustling establishment called The Violet Clover, his lips curling into a disdainful frown. "Look at this," he gestured at his hastily-scribbled image on the paper. "Look at their description. My hair's not brown, and I don't have a scar. And I'm not a wizard!"

"Shh," Shay hissed, tugging the hood of her cloak over her head. Her hair hid her eye once more, away from the prying eyes of Newbarth's townsfolk. "Do you want someone to hear you? Besides, if the description is inaccurate, isn't that to your advantage? People will be less likely to identify you."

But Varian remained dissatisfied. "'Missing tooth?'" He ran his tongue self-consciously over his front teeth. "That's just mean."

"Come on," Shay tugged at him. "We shouldn't be standing in front of it, anyways. We'll be noticed!"

"Alright, alright. Let's get inside." Varian finally allowed her to pull him across the threshold and into the inn, still a bit disgruntled at his unsatisfactory wanted poster. The Violet Clover was a brighter place than the dreary pub in Ghislaine; the patrons here were loud and lively, their eyes bright as they exchanged witty banter and made uproarious laughter. Two barmaids wound their way around tables, scrubbing at stains and slapping unwanted hands away. "Looks like this is as good a place as any," Varian muttered to Shay.

The innkeeper stood closer to the door than Varian had anticipated. He was a large man, almost as big as Varian's father, with a dark grey beard hiding a strong jaw. His eyes peered under heavy eyebrows as he approached them, cleaning out a mug the size of a Clydesdale's hoof. "What have we here?" he mused in a voice as deep as a well. "You two children looking for a long-lost relative in my humble establishment? Afraid that only happens in storybooks, you know." He noticed the sword and bow over Varian's back; Varian had insisted he carry the sword through Newbarth's streets, to divert suspicion from the girl. "Quite the weapon you have there. Pray tell, what exactly does a young man expect to slay with a letter opener that size? Giants are few and far between in the realm of reality."

Varian felt Shay duck behind him, clutching his sleeve. He'd forgotten how little she'd experienced outside her secluded cabin in the woods; a place like this, despite being warm and open, was probably still terrifying to her. It probably didn't help that she was traveling with an escaped traitor to the crown. He covered his surprise with a sheepish grin. "Sorry," he apologized, keeping his hands limp and open at his sides. "My sister and I are from the capitol. We're not used to traveling, you see. We're actually on our way to meet our uncle in Ghislaine – our father's having me deliver the sword to him, for a ceremony. He'd have done it himself, but he had to stay and look after our mother."

The innkeeper gave a single, cold chuckle. "That's quite the story, young man. Sorry to say, I don't believe a word of it."

Varian felt panic cause his guts to lurch. His smile faltered, and his legs grew tight.

"John?" he suddenly heard Shay mutter, loud enough for the innkeeper to hear. "We're not going to have to stay outside tonight, are we?"

"Of course not, Jane," Varian said automatically. He reached for her hand; her fingers were ice-cold as he tugged her into the open. "I'm not about to force my little sister to travel at night, am I?" He glanced hopefully at the innkeeper once more. "I'm afraid that's a decision our new friend will have to make for us."

To her credit, Shay managed to look up into the innkeeper's face and give a weak smile.

The innkeeper didn't seem moved at first, but he gave a resigned sigh. "I suppose I can't expect a young lady to spend the night out in the cold." He fixed his gaze on Varian once more. "Of course," he continued, "I'm not exactly running a charity here. Rate of pay is the same, regardless of age. Ten silver for one room, two beds."

Varian instantly felt the urge to protest. Ten silver for one room? That kind of money would pay for a horse _and_ a room, and at the capitol, no less. It certainly wasn't a rate he was charging his other customers, or this place would look like a palace. But Varian knew that arguing the matter would only raise more suspicion. He forced a stiff, joyless smile as he counted the pieces into the innkeeper's outstretched hand, his blue eyes icy and bitter. The innkeeper bit one of the coins, then tucked them into his pocket and barked at one of the maids to show their guests to their room. Shay stayed no less than six inches away from Varian as they followed the barmaid up the creaky wooden stairs to the second landing. She gave them the key to a room at the end of the hall and explained quickly that breakfast was not complementary before turning on her slippered heel and disappearing back down the stairs.

To the innkeeper's credit, the room itself was in decent shape. The floor was clean, and a single window framed the opposite wall. No desk or trappings, but a small washroom was to the right, a private amenity Varian hadn't expected – though for paying as much as he had, they deserved to wash off.

It wasn't until Varian crossed over and lit the gas lamp that he noticed one problem. "Oh no," he groaned, his blood pressure rising.

"What is it?" Shay asked as she closed the door. Scuttling sounds clicked across the wood floor, and invisible paws tugged at the hem of her skirt. She reached down and spoke a quick counter-spell, bringing Rudiger and Killy back into plain sight. "Neither of you were stepped on, were you?"

"This." Varian gestured at the bed. There was only one. "I'm going back down there to give that cheat what for."

"We can't do that," Shay shook her head as Varian approached the door. "The innkeeper already suspects us enough. We can work with this."

"No, we can't," Varian insisted. "I paid for two beds, not one. Extorted for my trouble, too!"

"I know you were," Shay agreed, her fingers tangling themselves into knots. "But if that's the price we have to pay for his discretion, then what choice to we have?"

"I…" Varian bit his lip; she was right. "It's not just the pay. It's…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his eyes flitting back and forth between Shay and the bed. "You're not actually my sister," he mumbled.

"O-oh." Shay suddenly realized the issue, and her face turned red. "No," she whispered, almost too softly for Varian to hear. "No, I-I'm not." She took a deep breath, ignoring Killy as the hare sat down on her cold foot.

Varian sighed shakily, running a hand through his hair. "It's fine," he grumbled. "I'll sleep on the floor." It was better than a cell, at least, and there was still a roof over his head. Time and the weather would tell whether it was leaky or not, but he could deal with that, too.

But Shay seemed to disagree. "What? No," she insisted, finally picking up Killy. "You've done far more traveling these past few weeks than I have."

"Yeah, but you slept near the fireplace the other night," Varian reminded her.

"That's when I was hosting you. This is different."

Varian gave a loud, nervous chuckle. "You can say that again." Then he sobered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shay, you're not sleeping on the floor."

Shay tapped her foot twice. "There's a simple solution to this," she told him suddenly. "I'll sleep under the covers and you sleep on top. If you get cold, we'll switch." When Varian opened his mouth to protest, Shay continued, "Or I could sew you into a bag."

"Sew me into a…" Varian mouthed, clenching and unclenching his shaking hands.

"See?" Shay folded her arms. "I think it's completely unnecessary, but if it makes you feel better about sharing a bed, I'd be happy to oblige. Which do you prefer?"

Varian stood slack-jawed, blinking widely at the proposition. He'd felt less shocked after hearing his father lie to the king. He'd been ignored and imprisoned by the royal family, threatened by a rogue witch hunter, and he had nearly been killed by the undead. Now he had this to deal with, and he wasn't sure which situation had been less stressful. In the end, fatigue decided for him. "Fine," he grumbled under his breath, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "But take the far side, okay?"

"Why?" Shay asked, setting Killy down as he handed over her father's sword.

"Because," Varian explained as he set the rest of his things down, "if someone tries to break in, I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

Shay stiffened, clutching the sword to her. "You don't really think the innkeeper recognized you, do you?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Varian replied as he tugged his boots off. "It's obvious he smelled something strange about the both of us. We're too young to be traveling alone and…unchaperoned." His face turned red. "There's, uh…that's a washroom, that door there, if you, um…you know, if you wanted to wash up."

"Oh," Shay noticed the door. "Right then. I-I'll just be a minute."

Varian gave a sigh of relief as Shay disappeared into the washroom; his heartrate could finally settle down, at least for a few moments. He focused his thoughts towards safeguarding the room. He produced a ball of string and tied it to the doorknob, then hooked it around a large vial of acid that he placed very carefully over the top of the frame. Rudiger brushed up against his leg, and he glanced down at the racoon. "Relax, it's not going to kill anyone. It might scar them, though. It's not much, but it'll have to do for now. It's a shame, we don't have anything to barricade it." Even a chair would have been nice. Maybe there was one in the washroom he could use. "We're only here for tonight, anyways."

"I could always place a ward on the door, if you'd like," Shay said from behind.

Varian jumped, his heartbeat accelerating once more; he hadn't heard her come out. He turned and saw that her hair was damp, and she'd changed into a simple, dark grey nightgown. Varian wasn't exactly sure where or how she'd brought sleepwear, but he didn't bother to ask. The answer was probably magic, anyway. "No," he answered after a moment. "No, you don't have to."

Shay gave a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I think I'm too tired to cast another spell."

Varian shrugged. "I guess, just…make yourself comfortable?" He grabbed a spare cotton top from his bag and sheepishly dragged himself into the washroom without another word, avoiding eye-contact as she watched him go. He popped his head out before closing the door. "If anyone knocks, don't answer it, okay?"

"Leave your clothes outside the door," she told him before he could disappear. "I'll take care of them."

Varian shrugged his gloves, coat, and shirt off and took a long pull of air through his nose before quickly passing them out into Shay's arms, hiding behind the door as best as he could. "I can take care of my unmentionables, thank you," he told her tersely before she could ask. He heard her give an exasperated sigh through the wall as he pumped the frigid water from the basin to scrub the grime from his skin and rinse the sweat out of his hair. As he worked, he spoke out loud to fill the silence. "After my mother passed, I grew up doing most of the work around the house. Things like laundry and cooking aren't exactly strangers to me. Of course, I invented a few machines here and there to do a lot of the work for me. Once I got older, that is." He heard Shay's muffled voice, and he paused to press his ear to the door. "What was that?"

"Your father," she spoke more clearly. "Did he ever thank you?"

Varian felt something settle on his shoulders, weighing them down until it felt like they'd reached his knees. He slid his forehead to the grain, his hair dripping down his neck. "Sometimes," he mumbled. He tugged the clean top over his head before taking a deep breath and opening the door ajar to peek out into the room. Shay was reaching to turn off the lamp as he stepped out, winding the gas down until the flame flickered out. The moonlight from outside filtered in through the window in hazy sheets, reflecting off the streak in Varian's hair like silver. His clothes were inexplicably clean and folded into a floating pile in the air, which he carefully took and set down by his things. "Thanks."

Shay said nothing as she obediently crossed over to the far side of the bed and crawled under the musty sheets, tucking them up to her chin like a child. Killy leaped up and nestled near her head, his breath ruffling her dark hair. When Varian didn't move, she brought one arm out to pat the space next to her.

Varian came over slowly, anxiety dragging at his heels like fiery cords. _If Dad was here, he'd kill me for this._ He turned about to sit down, but his legs refused to bend. **I** _might kill me for this._ Then he felt fingers grab the back belt loop of his trousers and tug hard, forcing him to stagger down.

"Could you please stop making this so awkward?" he heard Shay grumble sleepily as she settled back. "Just pretend it's a sleepover. You can't tell me you've never been someone's bedfellow before."

"Not really," Varian said in a stiff monotone, planting his clammy palms on his knees. Especially not with a girl. He realized his arms were shaking. "I've never stayed over at anyone's house before." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Why, have you?"

Shay went beet red from her hairline to her chest. "I…no," she said, avoiding his eyes. She started gnawing at her lip, and her hands were clutching tightly at the sheets. "No."

Varian shook his head. He'd learned over the past few days that Shay was good at a few things, but lying wasn't one of them. He didn't press the subject, though; such a small point wasn't worth it. He heard her swallow loudly as he finally leaned back, lacing his fingers over his breast as he stared up at the moonlit ceiling. His knuckles were pale and white, and, despite the miles that they'd walked, sleep seemed leagues out of reach.

"What do you think of dreams?" he suddenly asked.

"What about them?" Shay whispered.

"Do they ever mean anything?" Varian asked. "There are theories about it, scientific speculation about how the brain works. Some scholars think it's our minds trying to process the day." He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on his elbow. "What do mages think of it?"

Shay stared at him, her mismatched eyes wide and unblinking.

"What do mages think of dreams?" Varian repeated.

"Oh," Shay said breathlessly, blinking away as her blush returned. "They, um…the-they think that…well, it depends on the dream…I suppose."

"What about dreams when you're a different person?" Varian pressed. "Like, you're still you, but you're living through someone else. What does magic say about that?"

Shay looked at him again; this time, her gaze was clear and piercing, and the redness in her face faded. "What did you dream about? That's why you're asking, isn't it? You dreamt about something. What was it?"

Varian worked his jaw back and forth. "Nothing," he said, turning onto his back once more. "Nothing," he repeated, as if to convince himself. "Dreams are just that, right? They're just dreams."

Shay didn't answer. She slowly turned away, facing the opposite wall. Killy opened one eye to stare at Varian, then closed it again. Rudiger jumped up onto the bed and draped himself over Varian's leg, scratching the back of his ear. Varian reached to help with the racoon's itch until the creature purred with joy.

They lay there in silence for a while, waiting for sleep to come. When it didn't, Varian spoke again. "But if they weren't just dreams," he whispered, "what would they be?"

When Shay answered, her words were slurred and drowsy. "Visions…prophecies…memories…messages…"

Messages. Varian took his hand away from Rudiger; the racoon had licked his palm clean. "What kind of messages?"

Shay sighed, and Varian felt the sheets pull under him as she turned to face him again. Her eyes were still closed, but her brow was knotted in frustration. "Like letters," she answered. Varian could feel her breath on his arm, and it made his anxiety return in a tidal wave. She smelled like vanilla, warm and sweet. It made Varian all the more self-conscious. "But in your head," she continued. "Sometimes it was to warn someone, sometimes to encourage. It was a common way for lovers to use magic, when they were far apart. It makes it easier to bear being away from each other." She opened her eyes, "To have a single moment before the morning breaks, to not feel so alone."

"Heh." Varian inhaled, held his breath for an entire minute, then exhaled through his nose. It did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. "I didn't take you for a romantic," he managed to admit out loud.

Shay said nothing, but she hummed a disapproving note.

Varian blinked, his panic stalling. He glanced over at her. "Why? There's nothing wrong with it."

"Yes, there is." Shay grumbled. She cringed into the sheets, gathering a fistful of fabric towards her mouth like a child. "You get your hopes up, thinking that your dreams can come true. And then it's all taken away from you." Her eyes watered. "The lovers dream, but when they wake up, they're miles apart again." She blinked once, and tears made tracks over her nose. "Sorry," she croaked, wiping her face clean. "I-I'm fine. Let's just get some sleep."

Varian cursed himself, and guilt replaced his anxiety. It burned a hole in the pit of his stomach like acid. Of course, he knew what she was talking about. He'd felt the same way. Usually, anger and determination kept the sorrow at bay, like a sea wall against a hurricane. But Shay's words pelted his conscience like rain drops, pitter-pattering into a puddle of grief and self-pity. Memories of that day resurfaced there, images of the princess huddled on the floor of his lab, embracing her parents like they were the only people in the world. It had been too much for Varian to bear, that spectacle of love and devotion. Why couldn't he have the same? Why couldn't Shay have it, too?

He didn't want to leave things the way they were; it didn't feel right for Shay to cry herself to sleep without Varian doing something to make her feel better. Impulsively, he reached over and grabbed her hand. He didn't ask for permission, didn't look to see if she was surprised or repulsed. He waited for her to yank her hand away, but she didn't so much as twitch.

"I think you'll like the capitol," he said quietly. "The castle itself is on an island, just off the mainland. It's ridiculous, if you ask me, since it limits the king's options when it comes to an invasion or some other state of emergency. Still, it's nice there. The streets are new, and the castle has some very impressive architecture. And that's not even getting into what's under the castle." He went on, explaining the underground tunnels that led to a secret passage under the king's vault. "Not that we'll be going anywhere near the castle, unless you really want…" He realized Shay was asleep. "…To." He gave a heavy sigh of relief. Thank goodness. Maybe now, he could finally get some rest himself. They still had another two days left to travel on foot. He wondered if he should resupply in Newbarth. Some ham would be nice. Maybe purchase a mount…No, a mount would make them too conspicuous…and Rudiger's serum was meant for emergencies…Did Shay even know how to ride…?

 _Varian._

His eyes snapped open; he hadn't realized he'd closed them. He lurched up to see a petite woman with long crimson hair standing at the other side of the room. Her red and orange eyes stared, unblinking, and her hands were folded in front of her. She wore dark clothes and a blue scarf, and her mouth was pursed in a grim expression. It was difficult to tell how old she was, but streaks of grey could be seen near her temples.

Varian immediately reached for his bow, Rudiger rolling off his leg as he moved. He stopped when the woman raised her hand.

 _There's no need for that, child._ The woman's words echoed in the space between them, as if from the depths of a well. Her Irish voice was lilting and melodic. _I mean you no harm._

Varian glanced at the floor and noticed that the woman cast no shadow. He still grabbed his weapon, slowly this time, settling it across his lap; he felt more secure just holding it. He glanced over at the others; Shay slept on, and Killy and Rudiger didn't even stir. "First undead, now ghosts," he mused out loud.

 _Not a ghost,_ the woman answered. _Just an astral projection. It shouldn't baffle you, really. I'm sure you've seen enough of the arcane by now._

Varian leaned forward on his knees. "You're the Crimson Caster."

 _I prefer to be called Lyra,_ the witch said. _The Crimson Caster was always a more…derogatory title._ Her eyes widened when she saw Shay, and her voice softened until it was almost a whisper. _I…I see that my daughter is with you. That is her, isn't it? She's grown so much…I'm sure it's been years now._

Varian glanced anxiously back and forth between Lyra and her sleeping daughter. His face went red. "I swear, this isn't what it looks like!"

But the woman actually smiled. _It's alright, little one. She seems very comfortable with you._

"Well, I-I don't know about that, it's just –"

 _I know. I'm glad to see that she's safe. I can't begin to imagine…_ Her smile faded. _I'm sure you have many questions, but I don't have the strength to stay for long. I've been trying to speak to you for days, ever since you broke my seal on the necromancer's crypt. Only a power greater than my own could have done it._ Her red eye gave a very discernable glow. _And I assure you, there are few greater._

Varian made a skeptical frown. "How do I know it's you and not someone…some _thing_ else?"

 _An excellent question._ Lyra tilted her head. _What does your heart tell you?_

Varian gave a bemused look. "A heart can't give me solid evidence. It's just a muscle."

The witch sighed sadly. _That's not what your father believed._

Varian flinched, like he'd just been stung. "What is it that you want? Why are you talking to me, anyway? Shouldn't you be talking to your daughter instead?"

 _There is something I must ask you, Quirinson. Something my daughter would never agree with._ Lyra paused, as if taking a deep breath. _Under no circumstances should you release me from Haderon's crypt._

"Wait…What?"

 _The power within that tomb rivals that of the Celestials themselves,_ the witch explained. Her voice grew increasingly desperate. _The necromancer uncovered something great and terrible in his day, something that should never be unleashed upon Corona ever again. It is a power I once believed I could wield._ Regret and a twinge of fear flitted across her gaze, turning it pallid. _I was horribly wrong._

"Hold on a second," Varian stammered. Sweat slid down his neck, and his hands had turned clammy as he spun his fingers in a retractive motion. "Back up. What is a Celestial?"

 _The Celestials are ancient magics, a myth even among mages._ Lyra raised a hand and placed it over her red eye. _I once called upon such a myth, in my hour of need. They sleep within the cosmos, drifting through the ages until called upon for their boundless power, a power that can never be fully controlled._ A gust of wind struck against the window, and the latch broke off as a chill breeze filled the room. Varian was startled by the sudden burst of icy air on his skin, but the Crimson Caster still didn't move. _They are not personages, but they do yield a certain sentience – a purpose of feeling, a calling to be fulfilled when destiny comes. They are primordial, resting within nature like seeds in winter. It is rare that the Celestials choose vessels for their magic._ Her hand fell back to her side. _Even rarer when they choose someone like you._

"What do you mean?" Varian gestured wildly. "Wha…ho-how am I chosen by anything?"

The Crimson Caster raised her hand again, her fingers flitting in the direction of Varian's hair. Varian reached to tug a lock into view; it was all glowing now, a bright, luminous blue. The sight of it froze his blood. Her words were firm and resolute. _The moon is full tonight._

Quirin's bow fell from his lap as Varian lurched to the open window. He slapped his palms to the frame as he leaned outside, staring up into the night sky. She was right; it was the harvest moon. The lunar satellite loomed over the world in a massive disk of flowing light. Something else caught Varian's eye, and his gaze darted to a flutter of sparkling embers lingering on the black horizon. He could just make out the jutting shapes of the black rocks winking like needles threading across the illuminated landscape.

"No," Varian shook his head numbly. "No, you can't…you can't tell me I'm connected to those…those _things!_ No, the princess was, that's why…" He whirled about to face the witch. "There has to be another answer to this!"

The woman stepped towards him. She reached out as if to place a hand on his shoulder, then stopped and let her hand fall to her side. _That's the difference between science and magic, Varian. There is always more than one answer._

"More like no answers," Varian spat.

Something cold and distant entered the witch's voice. _You cannot dictate Providence, Quirinson._

Varian coughed out a bitter, incredulous laugh. "Providence? What part has Providence played in this, except to cause me pain?" He looked away, glaring at his toes. "If there even is such a thing."

 _Clearly, you have yet to live in a foxhole,_ the witch mused wryly. Then she sighed. _You're obstinate, like your father. You see what needs to be done, and you do it. But there is so much that you don't see, things that this Celestial must have realized you cannot understand, cannot accomplish, without its power. It has been calling to you for some time, now, trying to help you. It must have sensed a kinship in you, as the Seven Sisters did in me._

"But I…" Varian swallowed down his panic, raking his hands through his hair. "I don't want it." He licked his lips, his entire body trembling with anger and fear. "I didn't ask for this! I just want my father back!"

 _It is not a matter of what you want, Varian. It is a matter of what you need, what Corona needs. To be chosen by a Celestial is a great honor._

"I don't care about honor!" Varian shouted. The moonlight from the window seemed to intensify, settling on his shoulders like fine dust. He clenched his fists at his sides, and sparks gushed out of his grip like water. "I don't care about Corona or Celestials or any of it! I won't be part of some supernatural agenda that has nothing to do with me! I'm no mage, and I'm not an astronomer. I'm an alchemist!"

Her expression became somber, regretful. _You can't even begin to imagine how much more you can be. How much you **are.** _Lyra's voice started to grow faint, and her visage began to fade. _I am sorry, little one, for many things. I wish I could tell you more._ _Tell my little hawk that I'm sorry._ Tears welled up in her eyes. _I will miss her, for all my days. But Haderon's power must remain sealed away at all costs. When you wake, tell her…Tell her I should have…I should have…_

Then Varian opened his eyes, this time to a real world.

He was flat on his back, staring up at the wood ceiling. He was on the bed, Rudiger still curled up against his leg. He noticed that he wasn't holding his bow; it remained unmoved and unstrung on the floor by his feet. He realized that he hadn't moved an inch the entire night. Dawn was starting to break through the closed window, rosy tints glowing through the foggy glass. Shay must have gotten cold, because she'd curled up into a ball next to him, her face tucked under his shoulder. Heat crept up his neck when he noticed he was still holding her hand, and he carefully slipped his fingers away. Killy was nowhere to be seen at first, but Varian heard the hare approach the bedside as he slowly sat up and reached for his bag. He produced a small, round mirror and held it up to see the crown of his head. His hair wasn't glowing, but he could feel a fading warmth from his scalp, and there was a dimmed light in his eyes that didn't seem to come from the morning sky. His fingers tingled, as if they'd fallen asleep; as he flexed them, a flutter of sparks descended like the dying embers of a blue fire.

Chosen? He shook his head helplessly, and he set the mirror down in his lap. Chosen for what? And why? Why him, why now? What had he done to deserve the attention of something he'd never even heard of before? And the princess…Varian had never considered where it had come from, the Sundrop flower. Resting within nature…

He jumped out of his troubled thoughts when Shay shifted, groaning sleepily. She opened her orange eye at him, then closed it again. "What is it?" she mumbled.

Varian swallowed, and he quickly tucked the mirror away. "We need to get going," he told her, his tone husky and grim.

Shay blinked more widely at him as she tilted her head. "Why? What happened?"

Varian stood and started gathering his things. "Nothing," he lied, forcing a note of levity. "Nothing happened. It's just that we still have a ways to go before we reach the capitol, that's all." He was so full of anxious energy that he didn't even consider asking Shay to avert her gaze as he changed back into his old shirt. "I thought about picking out a mount for us," he explained as he tugged his apron over his head, "but it would make it harder to hide in case a guard notices us. Well, notices me, anyway."

Shay gave a meek hum of acknowledgment, trying her best to seem unflustered by him as she sat up. Killy followed her as she crossed over to the washroom to change. "I don't mind walking, Varian," she told him when he reappeared, tugging her cloak over her shoulders. "My mother's not going anywhere."

Lyra's nebulous face snapped back into Varian's mind, hardening his expression as he yanked his arms through the sleeves of his coat. "You're…right," he stammered. "Right. Neither's my dad," he added hastily. "So yeah, walking's fine."

Shay shrouded Rudiger and Killy with another spell. Varian returned the key to the innkeeper with a false smile on his face and a forced casualness in his step. Shay trailed behind him like a shadow, silent and submissive. By some miracle, they left the inn without incident. The streets were busy once more, this time with merchants and traders bartering their wares. Varian led the way, avoiding eye-contact and keeping his head low. After skirting a few tight corners filled with gossipy buyers and grumbling old men, they finally reached the town's border. The local guards glanced once in Varian's direction, but he managed to duck behind a group of newcomers before escaping into the open.

"That was close," Varian exhaled as they made their way across the beaten country path. "Let's hope we'll be that lucky in the future."

Shay dissolved the spell over their animal companions. "I hope they don't follow us."

"They won't," Varian said confidently. "Newbarth has too many incoming visitors for the town to spare any outgoing security like that. But it won't be the same at the capitol. I'm afraid we'll be camping out under the stars from now on."

Shay nodded. Silence fell between them as Newbarth faded into the distance. The sun ascended brightly into the morning sky as they began winding their way across the countryside once more. With Newbarth behind them, Varian hoped that he might be able to set his thoughts straight, to make a decision about what he'd learned in the night. Varian realized his choice wasn't as difficult to make as he'd feared. After all, even if he didn't tell Shay, his intentions would still be the same; he would free the Crimson Caster, regardless of the consequences.

As they neared a small, dry gully, he paused in his footsteps. "Shay," he said hesitantly. "There's something I have to tell you."

The girl stopped up ahead and turned to face him. She didn't speak at first, but when she did, she sounded breathless and urgent. "There's something I have to tell you, too. I know I told you it's not my secret to tell, but after last night –"

"Yeah, about last night," Varian cut her off. "And the night before, and possibly the night before that." He glanced down at Rudiger; the racoon waited expectantly, along with the others, for him to speak. He took a deep breath. "I've been –"

He was cut off by the distant sound of a large explosion, echoing through the trees like thunder. The boom was loud enough to startle both of them, and their animals' ears turned swiftly in the direction of great plume of smoke as it blossomed like a cloud into the far-off sky.

"What was that?!" Shay gasped.

Varian's brain worked quickly. "Looks like it was about two miles ahead of us. It's white smoke, which means the ignition source was black powder. That much of it, though – that can't have been an accident. And it's north of us…" It dawned on him, and his veins filled with burning dread. "Oh no."

Shay looked fearfully at him, waiting for him to explain.

"There's only one thing that anyone would bother to mess with in that direction – the Saison Bridge. It's the only way over the Saison River, which we need to cross if we're going to reach the capitol."

Realization made Shay's eyes grow wide. "That means…"

 _Just my luck._ Varian shook his head, a wry, hopeless grin spreading across his face. "Someone just blew it to kingdom come."


	16. Chapter Fifteen: An Angry Impasse

**As Varian and** Shay climbed a hill near the bridge, they kept low and ducked carefully behind a mulberry shrub. The dark fruit hung heavy and low, almost overripe, which didn't stop Rudiger from snatching one and staining his whiskers. Varian tugged off his goggles; he didn't want the sun off the glass to attract attention as he cautiously peeked out over the leaves. He could see the path leading to the bridge, and the smoke had cleared enough that he could see the damage. It wasn't pretty.

"What do you see?" Shay whispered.

Varian's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "Looks like there was a wagon shipment that ignited. It was probably going to Newbarth or Vardaros. One of the wheels is still spinning. The columns are still intact, but the deck is completely uncrossable. That's at least half a ton of brickwork, years of hard labor, gone."

Shay crept up just enough to see, her red eye searching through her hair. "There's another wagon on the other side of the river."

Varian couldn't see through the smoke. "I can't tell from here. How many people?"

"Three," Shay answered. "One of them is a woman."

A woman? Varian frowned. "What does she look like?"

"She has dark hair, auburn. Not very tall. There's a tattoo on her arm."

Varian cursed out loud. "Sounds like Lady Caine." He clarified when Shay gave him a confused look. "Caine with an E. She's a pirate with a grudge against the crown. You see, it wasn't just mages the king went after. He rounded up almost every criminal he could find. Lady Caine's dad was one of them. He died in prison…in the same cell I was in, if she was telling the truth."

Shay's face went pallid. "Oh. So, you've met?"

"I don't know if 'meet' is the word I would use." Varian could hear them now; the lady was shouting at the other two, something about incompetence and muscles for brains. A breeze cleared the smoke enough for him to see her stomping around, gesturing wildly. "She was escorted past my cell once. I'd say we know of each other, but that's as far as I would ever care to associate with her."

"It looks like she's upset about the bridge." Shay gnawed her lip. "Does that mean it was an accident?"

"Isn't it obvious?" A high-pitched voice hissed behind them. They jumped and whirled about to see two girls crouching there, their faces streaked with red paint and their clothes stained with dirt and soot. The girl who had spoken was dark-haired, with a scarlet bandanna tied around her neck. The other girl had a head of red locks, with a vivid blue flower tucked behind her ear. She looked shy and timid, while the first girl looked angry and frustrated. She held a small, silver knife in one hand, the sharp tip aimed squarely in Varian's direction. "Lady Caine is upset because we're better thieves than her."

The red-haired girl refused to meet anyone's eyes, and she stood uncertainly, as if ready to run. She gasped, startled by Killy as the hare darted towards her, pawing playfully at her leg. "Killy!" Shay made as if to reach forward, but she froze when the dark-haired girl swept the knife at her instead.

"Listen, tuts," the girl with the knife sneered. "I don't know how aware you are that you're travelling with a wanted criminal who tried to kill the princess, who happens to be our personal friend, thank you very much!" Varian branched his arm out in front of Shay, fixing the little girl with an icy glare as she turned the blade towards him once more. "Did you know there's a very generous bounty on your head?"

Varian decided it wouldn't hurt to play dumb. "What makes you think I'm the guy?"

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Please. Never trust the details on a wanted poster. We have inside intel. The blue hair streak and the sound of glass vials in your bag –" She gave his rucksack a lightning-fast kick, producing a tinkling sound "–are all obvious giveaways. Seriously, haven't you heard of dye?"

"Haven't you heard of manners?" Varian wrenched his bag away, then froze when the girl's knife drew dangerously close again. "And since when did you think it was a good idea to blow up the Saison Bridge? It was an achievement of architectural genius, considering the way the –"

"We didn't do it on purpose, okay?" The girl sighed sharply. "Look, it doesn't matter anyway, because we're heading south, and that's that. And since you…" She glanced at her companion and saw that the red-headed girl was petting Killy's head. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry," the other girl whispered, pulling her hand away from the hare's soft ears. "It's cute."

"Don't get distracted," the first girl snapped.

"Are you always this angry?" Varian observed. He glanced at Shay. "I'm calling her Angry."

Angry gave a hopeless shrug. "Why does everyone always call me that?"

"Killy," Shay beckoned to the hare. He sniffed his way back to her side. She glanced hesitantly at Varian. "What do we do?"

"Well," Varian answered with an exasperated sigh, "apparently we're going to do whatever Angry and…Red? Red. We're at their disposal now, for however long it lasts."

"Oh, it'll last." Angry gestured to Red. "On top of what we managed to snag from Lady Caine…" Her face suddenly wrinkled with confusion. "Wait. Where is it?"

Red's green eyes widened slowly. "I-I thought you had it."

"I thought you did!" The girls exchanged a silent look of panic. "So then, she still has it?!" Angry groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Subconsciously, she lowered the knife in her other hand. Varian moved faster than he thought he could; he snatched the blade from her unsuspecting fingers and flung it out towards the river. "Hey!"

"Relax," Varian crouched back down. "No one's going to get hurt. I just don't like sharp things being pointed at me. Now, what is it you girls are trying to steal, exactly?"

"We're not about to tell you, you murdering murderer!"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, I didn't murder anybody!"

"No, but you were going to," Angry sneered at him.

"I'm reformed!"

"More like deformed!"

As they continued to argue, Red looked shyly at Shay. "It's a gold relic," she answered quietly, "from the Demanitus Age."

"Demanitus?" Shay blinked curiously. "I didn't think any of his relics had survived in Corona."

"We think Lady Caine stole it from the king's vault," Red explained. "We're not sure how she did it, though."

"There are ways," Varian told her, holding Angry away at arm's length. The little girl's fists were swinging through the open air, too short to reach his face. "I've done it before."

"Yeah, right!" Angry switched tactics and launched a kick into his chest, forcing him to lurch back into the mulberry bush. "And just how did you do that? Break open the doors with one of your killer metalheads?"

"It's called an automaton," Varian coughed out, scrambling out of the thorns. "And no, actually –"

"Hey!" They heard a female voice bark out across the river. Lady Caine could be seen clearly, now that the smoke had finally drifted away. Varian and the others peeked out to see her standing on the river bank, her hands on her hips as she fixed a cruel glare across the churning waters. "Little girls! I got to say, I'm impressed that you had the gumption to blow up such an important bridge. But you don't want some dusty old relic, anyway, especially when I can offer you something far more valuable!"

Red and Angry looked surprised. "She thinks we have it," Angry grinned. "Hold on a second." She poked her head out from around the bush. "Oh, please! If we wanted money, we would have stolen that from you instead!"

"Oh, I see," Lady Caine nodded knowingly. "You want to return it to the king. Maybe then he'll absolve you of your criminal past. I can't say I blame you. But let me tell you something, experienced thief-to-thief. The king has no good graces for the likes of us."

Varian stiffened.

The Lady produced a bag from her belt and shook it. Across the distance, they could just make out the sound of jangling coins. "Prosperity, on the other hand, is right within your reach. One hundred gold is no amount to sniff at."

The girls glanced at each other. Red's timid face hardened, and she shook her head. Angry seemed to think about it for a moment. Then she made a doubtful grunt. "Why should I believe you have that much to offer?" she called.

"Because the king's certainly not going to fork over that much," the Lady explained. "I will, and for that relic, I'm more than willing to pay it! But of course, we can't exactly make such a trade when we're separated by several leagues of river. I have a solution, but only if you cooperate."

"What sort of solution?"

Lady Caine pointed west, along the bank. "The river narrows further down, about two miles from here. I know for a fact that there's a fallen tree that spans it. It's too narrow for someone like me and my men to cross, but it would be no trouble for you young ones. Unless you'd prefer to stay here and deal with the authorities when they come to investigate your…mess."

"She's right," Varian murmured. "None of us will want to be here, come nightfall when the patrol comes. But that tree's probably gone by now." He pressed his fingers to the damp ground. "This area was flooded after all that rain."

"How would you know about that tree?" Angry speculated.

"Because I crossed it myself when I came this way," Varian explained stiffly. "I'm betting there's no way across unless the river magically freezes overnight." He suddenly perked up, and he glanced over at Shay. "Unless the river magically freezes overnight," he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Can you do it?"

Shay looked uncertain. "I don't know, Varian. I'm terrible at cold magic. If I had a catalyst, maybe, like a block of ice or something. But it's a big river."

Varian frowned, thinking to himself. "I have nitroglycerin, but only an ounce of it. It's too dangerous to carry around in bulk. I don't know if it'll freeze enough." He chewed his lip. "What if you had more magic?"

"More magic? I don't understand, where would we get more magic?"

"I'll explain later," Varian assured her. He turned to the other girls, who were both giving them strange looks. "Alright. I know I can't convince you girls we mean well, but if you want your relic – and the Lady's money – you're going to need our help."

Angry crossed her arms. "Oh, really? I don't know what all this talk is about magic, but…" She stopped when she felt Red tug at her arm. "What? You think we should _work_ with him?"

Red shrugged.

Angry sighed sharply. "Fine. But just so you know, no matter how this pans out, we're still going to try and turn you in for the bounty."

Varian smirked. "You can try."

"Alright, Lady!" Angry shouted out, her dark eyes glinting with determination. "We'll meet you downriver at nightfall! Be there, or we keep the relic!"

"Oh, I'll be there, little ones!" Varian heard the Lady chuckle. "The question is whether you'll show. Because if you don't, I won't be happy. And when I'm not happy…well, you're children. I'm sure you have good imaginations."

Angry gestured for the others to sneak back down into the trees, away from Lady Caine's sight. "Stay in front of us and there won't be any trouble. You'd better not try anything funny, alchemist," she spat as they started making their way west through ferns and shrubs. "We may not look it, but we can hogtie you in five seconds." A small, proud smile turned the corners of her shrewd mouth. "We hold the record."

Varian made a condescending smirk. "I'm sure you do."

"So, what's this talk about magic?" she continued. "I thought you were supposed to be an alchemist. Isn't that your schtick?"

"Yeah, it is," Varian sniffed. "What's your deal, then? This relic you guys are after. The king listed a reward for its return, didn't he?"

Angry's eyes widened. "Yeah, actually. How did you –"

"Basic logic," Varian answered. "You said you didn't want to sell it, and the Lady's claim for your reasoning lines up with your actions. If you were only in it for the money, you'd take her bargain." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his smirk returning. "But you don't intend to do that, do you? I'm sure you also intend to play nice with us only until you get what you want. Fine by me," he continued before she could speak. "I have no personal interest in your ambitions." He stopped in his tracks and bent over until his face was in front of hers. "Just as long as you don't get involved in mine."

Angry snapped her fingers under Varian's nose, causing him to flinch. "You sure like to flap your lips, don't you? I hear you like picking on girls, too. Well, guess what, alchemist?" She grabbed the front of his coat with a small, vice-like hand. "I'm not as nice as the princess." She pressed a fresh, new knife under his jaw. "You keep tempting me, and I'll gut you like the no-good bottom-feeder you are."

Varian felt a hand on his shoulder, and he saw Red place her fingers on her friend. Angry slowly let him go, and he stood upright again as Shay tugged him back. "That's enough," she said in her quiet voice. She gave Varian a terse look out of the corner of her orange eye. "Both of you."

"What?" Varian raised his shoulders. "I didn't –"

"You did," she grumbled. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the girls. "We really don't want any trouble. We just want to get across the river."

Angry scoffed, tucking the knife away. "And you expect me to trust you more than him? I don't think so, tuts."

Varian felt Shay's grip on his shoulder twitch once, and he heard her take a sharp breath. "My name is Shay," she introduced herself, "not 'tuts.'" She forced a smile on her face. "Can't we all just get along until we find a way out of this…situation?"

"No, _tuts_ ," Angry snarled. "We can't, especially when you're in cahoots with a filthy, no-good, degenerate piece of crap!" Varian gave a shrug; he'd been called worse. "I mean, do you have any idea what this guy has done?!"

"I do," Shay answered quietly.

"Then…" Angry shook her head. "Then why are you working with him?"

Shay said nothing, and Varian felt her move away. She started walking down the unbeaten path once more, Killy following in her footsteps. A scuffling overhead gave away Rudiger's position as the racoon scampered through the shady treetops. "Shay," Varian sighed as he jogged to catch up, ignoring the thieves as they silently pursued. "Shay, come on, don't be like that." He managed to catch her arm. "Listen," he said, his voice low. "They're just a couple of brats. Don't let them get to you."

Shay turned to look at him. "It doesn't help when you're trying to pick a fight with them," she said softly.

"Pick a fi…" Varian donned a look of disbelief. "They're threatening to shank me, and they blew up a bridge we really needed to cross!"

She sighed.

"There, see? We can let it go, now." Varian let her go and started walking forward again.

"Varian," he heard her say. "Have you thought about what happens after all of this?"

Varian stopped. He worked his jaw a bit. "Why do you, uh…Why do you ask?"

"It's just…" She suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I don't know."

"No?" Varian stepped closer to her. There was something tired in his eyes, something distant and detached. "You do know. You just don't want to say it. It's really finally starting to sink in for you – that I'm an outlaw, on the run, no place to call home. You're wondering if things will stay that way when this is all over, when our parents are free. Does that sound about right?" Before she could answer, he continued, "well, it may surprise you when I say yes, actually, I have thought about it. The question is, have you?"

Shay froze. "I…" Her face went completely red, and she looked away.

Varian glanced behind her, at the girls coming nearer. He tapped Shay's chin with the crook of his finger. "Let's not talk about this here. We'll worry about what happens after our work is done. In the meantime, I'll try to play nice. Alright?"

Shay nodded; shame still tinged her nose, but at least she wasn't so upset anymore. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Angry beat her to it. "I hate to break up this little scene," the girl interrupted, "but could we please get a move on? We're burning daylight here."

"Yeah, yeah," Varian sniffed, then turned to continue down the way. To himself, he muttered, "It's only a matter of time."

* * *

"Feel free to sit down, captain," the king offered a seat in his study.

The captain stiffened where he stood before the rose-tinted window. "I would prefer to stand, your Majesty."

"Well, then I hope you don't mind if I sit," The king sighed, sinking into the chair at his desk. "It's alright," he assured the captain when he looked panicked. "The whole 'always be lower than the king' is a bit overplayed, I think. Here, we are confidants. There is no need for such formality." He ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper beard, gazing out at the morning sun. "Now, then. This issue has been weighing on your mind, it seems."

The captain cleared his throat. He said nothing, but the answer was clear. He had removed his helmet, making it easier to see the sleepless, dark circles underneath his somber eyes. "I would not ask this of you if I did not think it relevant to our current investigation."

"No," King Frederick shook his head. "No, this is something that should have been brought to your attention long ago, when I first appointed you as captain." The king massaged his temple with his index and middle fingers. "That being said, I trust that you will not repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone. Understood?"

"Clearly, your Majesty."

The king stopped massaging, his hand falling slowly away from his grim face. There was nearly an entire minute of silence before he began. "It was almost twenty years ago, now. That is how old Rapunzel will be turning soon, yes. The queen was ill, soon to die. I had explored all other options personally. Eventually, I was left with nothing but a rumor to follow, a recommendation from an old friend. I sent the captain before you, Captain Cain, to investigate the Haderon Forest with his men in search of a witch known as the Crimson Caster. I wasn't really expecting anything to turn up, but it was the only thing we hadn't tried."

"You turned to magic?"

The king actually shrugged. "When you've exhausted everything else, you'd be surprised how appealing magic suddenly becomes. This witch was known among more private circles in the south as a woman of great power, someone who knew a great deal about the land. She found Captain Cain in the forest, and he managed to convince her to come to the palace. It was she who told us where to find the Sundrop flower."

The captain felt memories press at the back of his mind. "I remember when we were sent to search. I was just a scout at the time."

"Of course, the flower worked," the king continued, "but then the princess was stolen by a hooded figure in the night, someone who could have snuck in only by magic. I believed the Crimson Caster was responsible. At the time, we had no other suspect. It was a…delicate situation. I knew it had to be handled discreetly. I informed the public that we were doing everything we could to find the princess, and I instructed the soldiers to sweep the entire kingdom. Meanwhile, I proposed a more secret operation to Captain Cain. I asked him to find and select a few of his best men to find and apprehend all magic users in the kingdom. Their main focus, however, was the Crimson Caster. Among the names he gave me, Cain's was the first on the list. His brother, Caius, was also appointed."

The captain's hands had clenched into tight fists at his sides, but he managed to keep a straight face. "What happened?"

King Frederick pursed his lips. "According to the reports I was given, Captain Cain was bewitched by the Crimson Caster. Instead of bringing her to justice, he helped her escape it. Only his brother returned. He was understandably upset, so much so that the other witch hunters claimed he was…obsessed. One day, he disappeared, never to be seen again, just like the captain and the witch who'd enchanted him. None of the other mages we found were able to tell us anything about her, and none of them confessed to taking my daughter. After five years of searching, I disbanded the witch hunters and minimized our search assets." He felt something empty echo in his chest, as if his heart had hollowed. "I had given up hope, but at least with the lantern festival, we were able to keep the people's hopes alive." His somber eyes flickered up to the captain's face. "At the end of the day, the people are what matter most."

"I understand, your Majesty."

But the king shook his head. "No, captain. You don't. I pray you never will." A light returned to his gaze. "What I do hope you understand is the implications of Quirin's son searching the Haderon Forest, now that you know what terrible creature may still live there. If that boy has somehow managed to enlist a witch to serve his ambitions…Heaven help us."


	17. Chapter Sixteen: The Red Lady

"It looks like here," Angry pointed through the twilight, her dark eyes squinting through the branches of a scraggly pine. Red was at her shoulder, her freckled expression a determined pout. True to the Lady's word, the river had narrowed considerably here; its once gushing flow was now a calmer stream. The river was also deeper, and the bank had transformed into a steep gulch. A dark pit in the browning grass indicated where a tree had once been, the soil overturned by the storm's violent uprooting of the vanished conifer. Angry chewed her lip when she saw far down the river was. She flashed Varian a venomous glance over her shoulder. "Any bright ideas, alchemist? They'll be here soon, and once they see this, Lady Cain will freak out."

Varian knew the tree would no longer be there, but seeing it for himself really drove home how difficult this was going to be. He had bristled, his face screwed into a consternated frown. He looked to Shay, who didn't seem any happier than he was. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

Shay said nothing, but she made a small noise in her throat that clearly indicated reluctance.

Varian blew out his cheeks. "Okay. Everybody, get ready to climb down."

Angry gave a cough of disbelief. "Are you serious? There's no way we can get across once we reach the bottom!"

"There will be a way," Varian hissed back.

"Fine," Angry sneered, and she gestured to Red. "Let's go." They both darted out through the grass like a couple of field mice, and Varian saw them produce two thin coils of rope from the satchels at her waists. Crouching low, they found a craggy outcropping to lash onto. They turned to repel, and Angry flashed Varian and Shay a rude gesture before she disappeared over the edge.

"Rudiger," Varian beckoned, and the racoon scrambled up onto his shoulder. Shay scooped up Killy with trembling hands and tucked the hare into the pocket of her apron before following Varian out to the edge of the gulch. Varian pulled out a curious woven cord (of his own design, of course) with a metal spike at the end that he drove into the ground with his foot. "Let's see," he peered over the edge, calculating in his head. "Seventy times…carry the four…I should have plenty." He felt Rudiger's claws pinch the fabric of his jacket as he bent down to one knee. "Get on," he told Shay. He felt her arms wind around his neck, and he hiked her legs up over his arms before grabbing the rope firmly with both hands.

"Are…" Shay gulped loudly in Varian's ear. "Are _you_ afraid of heights?"

Varian chuckled. "No. No, of course not." But even as he said it, he felt his stomach twist as he started descending into the gulch. It was true that he wasn't afraid of heights; the problem was that he'd never climbed down a rough rock face with an extremely anxious girl clinging to his back like a shivering monkey.

Down below, he could hear Angry call up to him. "What's taking you so long?" Varian couldn't see over his shoulder with Shay on his back, but he heard a light smack from Red as she silently chided her pugnacious companion. "What? If he's going to talk it, he should be walking it. Come on!" she called again. "You could always drop her!"

"I hate her," Shay muttered, then gasped when Varian shifted her weight. "Don't you dare!"

"Will you relax?" Varian grunted, trying to find his next foothold. "If you stopped strangling me for five seconds, I could do this better!"

He heard Angry snigger. "Doubt it. Nice butt, by the way!"

Varian's face flushed when he heard Red give a girlish giggle. "Unbelievable."

"At least she's not calling you 'tuts,'" Shay grumbled. "I swear, if she calls me that again, I'll turn her into a slug."

"You'd be doing us both a favor," Varian panted. The dark of night began to loom as the sun's final rays slipped beyond the gulch. "Of course, if you did that, we – " He never finished his sentence, because the crevasse he'd stuck his foot into collapsed under his weight. They started falling, Rudiger crying out in Varian's ear. Shay's chokehold cut off his air supply; the sudden loss of breath made his grip tighten as a burst of adrenaline flooded his system, and the leather of his gloves ground into his skin as they screeched to an abrupt stop in the air. Inertia wrenched Shay's arms free, and Varian heard her shriek as she fell backwards. He heaved, blindly lashing his hand out to her. He felt her fingers snatch his, and the force of it made him twist, slamming them into the rock face.

"Hey, I was joking!" They heard Angry exclaim, a hint of panic in her voice.

"Hold on," Varian gasped, dangling as he tried to get his feet back up on the rock wall. He could feel blood trickling down his face from where his cheek had smashed into the stone. "Hold on," he repeated; he tried once to pull her up, but he barely had the strength to hold on for himself. He could feel Shay slipping; his glove was slowly starting to slide away, and he heard her rasp out something in Celtic, the words clipped and hysterical. "Come on!" Varian shouted out loud, trying again to haul his feet up. This time, he found purchase against the wall, his heels catching the lip of a crevasse. His thighs burned with the effort, and he could feel his arms weakening.

Then his glove came clean off, and Shay was falling.

Two seconds later, something tightened painfully around his naked wrist. It was a glowing red strand, snapped taught by Shay's weight as she dangled from the other end. Varian managed to crane his head down enough to see her nearly twenty feet below, her mismatched eyes wide with terror as her feet trailed dangerously close to the tumbling waters below. The river was small as a stream, but it rushed quickly, white froth licking jagged stone teeth. "Varian!" He heard her anxiously call. "Tell me you have a plan! Please!"

Angry's voice echoed throughout the gulch, an accusation that made Varian even more alarmed. "You can't swim, can you?"

Shay's silence was answer enough.

Varian turned his panicked gaze upward, towards the darkening sky. "Come on," he said again, his voice shaking. "If you've given me this…I need it now!"

Nothing happened at first. He could feel Shay shuddering through her magic thread, and he knew deep down inside that it would soon break. She didn't have the strength to hold on forever. He could hear Angry shouting something else at him, but his brain filtered out all meaning as he summoned every ounce of will he had.

Suddenly, the pain in his wrist disappeared. He jerked his head to look back down, expecting to see Shay tossed down into the treacherous depths. Instead, he saw that the red cord tied around his wrist was turning purple. He focused past it to Shay; her eyes were wide with a different emotion now. Varian later recognized it as awe. The thread continued to turn purple, the violet color spreading down until the coil clutched in Shay's hands sparked with the bright light. Varian watched her duck her head as she looked down at the waves. His heart leapt in his throat when he saw her relinquish one hand, stretching her fingers out towards the river. She cried out her spell, and a cascade of light shot out towards the water. Varian heard a great crack, and then the gulch fell silent as the river expanded and froze to a stop.

"Oh. My. Gosh." Angry and Red gaped openly at the sight.

Varian breathed a shuddering sigh of relief, then gasped when he felt Shay's weight break off. She fell onto the ice in a heap, her black hair obscuring her downturned face. "Oh no." Varian shook the lingering magic from his hand and jumped off the wall, sliding down so fast that the cord burned the skin of his bare hand. He landed on the frozen river and half-ran, half-slid over to Shay's crumpled form. He saw Killy squirm out from under her, his paws clicking on the slippery surface as he sniffed agitatedly at her limp arm.

"Okay, so, what was that?" Angry and Red approached from behind, their feet flying flawlessly over the slick ice. "Your hair was like, whoosh! And now it's not. And now the river is frozen. I thought you said you weren't a wizard!"

Red approached Varian's shoulder, like a timid creature. She jumped when Rudiger leapt from Varian to the ice, his claws clicking across the cold surface as he joined Killy.

"Is she okay?" she asked in a whisper.

Varian glanced up at the sound of her voice. "I…I don't know," he admitted. Shay's head was in his lap; it looked like she was unconscious. "I can't tell if she hit her head or not. If she did, she might have a concussion." It looked like she'd landed on her feet, though, which meant she must have passed out from overexerting herself, like she almost had when they'd left her home.

"What's a con…con…" Red struggled with the word, then fell silent.

"It's when your brain collides with the inside of your skull," Varian explained, giving Shay a shake. "Oh, this is bad."

"Great," Angry grumbled. "So now she's really dead weight."

Varian turned to snap at her, but he stopped when he realized she was right. If Shay was awake, she could at least help him decide which was the best way to climb out of the other side of the gulch. But Shay had nearly passed out before from casting spells; it was possible this one might have pushed her past her limit. In that case, she just needed to wake up. "Shay," he started patting her cheek. "Shay, come on." When she didn't respond, he sucked in a deep breath. "Please don't hate me for this." He wound back and gave her a sharp slap.

Shay gasped awake, her hand flying to her stinging skin. She said something in Celtic, then her eyes focused on Varian. "Did you just slap me?"

Varian pointed to Angry. "She did it. Ow!" He hissed when Angry planted a swift kick into his back. "Take it easy," he told Shay as she sat up. Killy jumped into her lap, nudging under her shaky arm. "You fell almost ten feet." He glanced around them. "You didn't even need a catalyst. I thought you said you weren't good at ice magic."

"I – I'm not," Shay winced, rubbing her throbbing temple. "The spell I used was very basic, there was no way it could have frozen this much on its own." She pet Killy and gazed dazedly at Varian. "How did you…?"

"I'll try to explain later," Varian sighed. "It's a long story. But we –" He stopped when he heard something, a voice from outside the gulch. It sounded like Lady Caine. "Quick," he whispered, helping her to her feet. She scooped Killy back into her apron, and Rudiger stayed close on Varian's heels. "Everybody, get to the other side and don't move until I say so."

Surprisingly, the thief girls obeyed. "I can't hear what they're saying," Angry muttered as they pressed their backs to the opposite wall. "How do we know it's them and not a militia patrol?"

Red looked up towards the lip of the gulch, flashing a determined expression. Without saying anything, she tapped Angry on the shoulder, then started to climb. Varian scrambled to catch her by the ankle. "Wait a second," he gasped. "You don't have to do this! I'll go."

"Don't be ridiculous." Angry's voice was quiet and level. "She's smaller than you and sneakier than me. She's less likely to make noise." She smirked at him. "You'd just fall and break your neck or trounce around like an elephant and give us away."

The 'elephant' jab caused a low, sullen sound in Varian's throat. But he didn't dispute her point. He was bigger (than a little girl, at least), and stealth wasn't exactly his strong suit. He felt knuckles gently tap the top of his head, and he looked up to see Red waiting for him to let go. Her hair hung in crimson strands around her freckled face, and she gave him just a hint of a smile; a shadow of gratitude for his unexpected concern. He relinquished his grip, and she darted up the rock wall. Everyone watched her find handholds in the increasing darkness, climbing twice as fast as Varian ever could. With baited breath, they saw her reach the top and clamber out of sight.

They waited, listening.

As they waited, a sudden thought made Varian's blood run cold. What if the girls were consorting with Lady Caine? What if this was all some elaborate ruse, a trick to leave him vulnerable, susceptible to capture? What if it wasn't Red who reappeared, but the twisted, haunting face of the Lady instead? He tore his eyes away long enough to glance pointedly at Shay, who stared right back, her lips pursed into a grim look.

The silence was finally broken by a scuffle overhead, and a small smattering of pebbles tumbled down into the gulch as Red popped her head over the edge and gave a swift thumbs-up gesture. Angry's consternated expression cracked into a relieved smile, and she reached up to begin the climb. She looked over her shoulder at Varian. "I swear, if you give us away and mess this up, I'll personally neuter you and wear your racoon on my head." She gave Shay a dismissive frown. "Cross your fingers and hope that Tuts here doesn't pass out again."

Varian wisely chose not to look at Shay; he could practically feel the flames threatening to emanate from her as she roughly rolled up her sleeves and promptly started climbing after the girl. Varian remained wary as he tucked Rudiger up on his shoulder again and proceeded behind. As they grew higher out of the gulch, he could feel his heart start hammering in his chest as suspense and apprehension made his grip tighter, numbing the throbbing skin of his naked hand.

At one point, Shay's foot slipped, and she gasped out loud. Varian caught her heel, grinding his own feet into the rock face as he bore half her weight with gritted teeth. Angry shot a death glare down at them, wordlessly telling them to shut up. Varian managed to guide Shay's toes to a narrow crevice, sighing with relief when he was able to let go. "You alright?" he whispered. When Shay didn't answer, he assumed she hadn't heard him, was concentrating too hard, or that she was trying to stay as quiet as possible. Or she was pissed. Probably the last one.

After what felt like hours, they finally neared the top. Rudiger jumped from Varian's shoulder into the grass, and Varian managed to keep his head low as he hauled himself over. The smell of cool earth filled his nose, and he flashed a weak grin in Shay's direction. But Shay did not return the smile. She wore the same face she did when they'd left Caius in Haderon's crypt.

"What is it?" he asked.

Shay's orange eye flitted to his face for an instant. "Did I do anything?" she suddenly asked, her voice a rushed whisper. "Did anything happen when I…when I passed out?"

Varian frowned, confused. He shook his head. "No. Why?"

"Shut up, both of you." Angry's dark eyes glinted like polished black pearls in her head. "Look, over there. Lady Caine and her goons have set up camp down the hill, next to those trees."

Varian looked. Sure enough, the Lady could be seen crouching low outside her stolen wagon, their horses restless as the chill evening turned closer to dark night. It seemed that the Lady had opted not to light a fire, no doubt to conceal her location from any passing Coronan patrols. Varian made this observation out loud to the girls. "It's an advantage we can use to get around, and for you two to get your artifact."

Shay parted her hair away from her concealed red eye, peering just over the grass at the Lady's position. "Varian," she breathed, her words trembling with fear. "There's only one man with her."

Varian's heart stopped. Suddenly, every sound around him was amplified, and his hands felt frozen as blood rushed to his racing head.

The next thirty seconds were a horrifying blur. One of the girls shrieked out loud – Varian saw a flash of red hair – as she was hauled out of her hiding spot by Lady Caine's brutish hire. There was a cry of indignation from Angry, and Varian lurched to his feet, his father's bow in hand. Rudiger was at his feet, snarling and growling. He aimed, but he wasn't fast enough; the arrow was knocked out of his grip, his bow flying into the grass. On impulse, he hauled his fist back and swung, but the force of his attempted punch was caught and thrown back at him, hurling him head-over-heels into the dirt and striking his lungs empty. He heard Shay call his name, saw a burst of red light behind closed eyelids. Then he heard a thud, a sickening crack, and a cry of agony. By the time he managed to reach his knees, he was quickly thrust back down into the dirt, a boot stuck firmly between his shoulder blades.

"End of the line, miscreants." Varian felt a massive hand grip his scalp, forcing him to his feet. His staff was taken away and thrown into the gulch, the light of the vials disappearing over the edge like a falling star. He was half-pushed, half-dragged towards Lady Caine's lightless camp, black clouds overhead shrouding the rugged path. He wasn't allowed to look over his shoulder; he was able only to see where to put his feet in front of him. Soon, he was yanked to a stop and pressed down to his knees. Even when the hand on his head disappeared, he still didn't move. He knew he was in no position to escape this, and as Lady Caine stepped forward of out the wagon's shadow, his hopes quickly dwindled. Echoes of frown lines slowly dissipated from the Lady's beautiful face, her sharp eyes brightening at the sight of what her lackey had caught.

"Well!" She glowed with pleasure. "I was expecting to catch a couple of rats, but I wasn't expecting the infamous alchemist. Even so, clearly it seems I overprepared, even for you." She clucked her tongue and shook her head as deft hands wrenched his arms behind his back, fastening his wrists together. His satchel was wrenched over his neck and tossed unceremoniously to the Lady, who caught it in her free hand. She shook the bag under his nose before hurling it behind her, into the back of the wagon. Varian winced when he heard glass break. "I'm disappointed, Varian. I would have thought you'd put up a decent fight. Why didn't you use all those little tricks and potions you're so well known for?" Her hand suddenly darted out, snatching Spellbane off Varian's back and swiping it out into the open air. "I mean, for Heaven's sake, why aren't you using _this_? It's lighter than I thought, which I guess explains how a shrimp like you can carry it around." She allowed the realization to dawn exaggeratedly on her face. "Oh, I see. You don't know how to use it. Would you like me to show you?"

Varian swallowed. "You won't kill me," he said; he sounded calmer than he felt. "I'm more valuable to you alive."

"Maybe so." The Lady lowered the sword, and her eyes darted to Varian's right. "But what about your friends?" She chuckled darkly. "If you even call them that. I'm sure the little rats here were plotting to sell you out the moment they had the chance!"

Varian looked, and dread filled his stomach like cement. The two thieves had been tied with their hands behind their backs, their faces dirty and their hair disheveled. Red looked like she was trying not to cry, and Angry's furious expression was a wavering mask to hide her own fear. Shay wasn't even tied; Varian could see that it wasn't necessary. She was turned away, curled up into a ball of pain, her right arm splayed and twitching. Varian could tell immediately that it was broken – a dark bruise had blossomed across her forearm; a multiple fracture, one that was sure to heal improperly if he didn't do something about it. He spared a moment to give Lady Caine's henchman a lowery glare. The heard the Lady's other henchman grunt, directing Varian's attention back to the woman. "I'll make you pay for that."

"For what? Her?" Lady Caine chuckled again. "Jorgen, keep an eye on this for me." She handed Spellbane to her second goon. "Kerick did what was necessary to keep your waifish friend from doing something she might regret. I assure you, he could have done far worse." She crouched down to Varian's level and smoothed the hair back from his forehead. The touch burned his skin, and he fought the urge to slap her hand away. "You know, Varian, darling," she said in a cool voice, "we don't have to be enemies here. We have a common goal, you and I. We both hate the royal family for what they did to us. We both lost our fathers because of them."

Varian couldn't stop the smallest smirk from twitching at the corner of his mouth. "At least my father's not dead."

The sound of Lady Caine's open hand as she slapped him echoed through the nearby trees. The force of it cut the inside of Varian's lip over his teeth. The Lady's cool fingers reached for his chin, forcing him to look at her again. "Ooh, that's too bad," she crooned, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. "I might be able to forgive you for that…at least, enough not to kill you." She roughly tossed his face aside again and stood up, giggling. "I'll let Corona do that for me instead. Throw him in the wagon with the rats."

Varian's left eye throbbed from the hit. Through it, he could just make out a flicker of movement past the Lady's shoulder. A pair of racoon eyes glinted back at him, yellow orbs nearing the wagon.

Kerick pointed down at Shay's prone, shivering form. "What about her?"

"The waif? Get rid of her. The river will work."

"What?! NO!" Varian struggled, kicked, and strained as Jorgen came and bodily hoisted him over his burly shoulder, like a sack of flour. "Wait, please, she has nothing to do with this!"

"No?" Lady Caine fixed him with a smug look as Jorgen hauled him past her. "Then you shouldn't care. In fact, I'm surprised you do. I thought you didn't care about anyone but Daddy anymore. Didn't the princess learn that the hard way?"

"I'm nothing like you!" Varian shouted defiantly.

The Lady threw her dark red head back and shrieked with laughter. "You're exactly like me," she cackled. "Manipulating others, motivated by vengeance…All you need now is to ditch the denia –"

She was cut off by a bright red thread that appeared around her neck.

Varian gasped, following the strand to where Kerick lay in a heap in the grass, less than ten feet from the edge of the gulch. Shay stood there, her broken arm hanging limp at her side. Her eyes were half-open, and Varian could see red light bleeding from them. Her hair was glowing in red sheets around her expressionless face.

Jorgen!" Lady Caine barked before she was yanked backwards into the dirt.

Jorgen dropped Varian to the ground; Varian rolled, working his arms past his legs until his hands were in front of him again. He could hear the thief girls shouting as they worked to free each other. He scrambled to his feet, rushing to the back of the wagon. Rudiger was there with Killy, sniffing and searching in vain through the contents of Varian's satchel. Desperate, Varian lifted the flap away and sifted clumsily through with his bound hands until he found the chimera serum. "Hurry!" he begged, forcing the stopper off and tipping the last drops of the vial into Rudiger's mouth.

The wagon exploded as Rudiger grew ten times in size, unleashing a bellowing howl. Killy yelped, disappearing into the night. Varian reached into Rudiger's gaping maw and severed the rope from his wrists, shaking his fingers free. "Go!" he screeched, pointing fiercely at Jorgen's sprinting form as the man rushed at Shay. Rudiger surged forward, closing the distance quicker than any horse could. He bowled over Jorgen like a wolf tackling a kitten, pinning the man down with his drooling muzzle looming inches away. Angry darted into the shadows with Red, ducking swiftly past Varian towards what was left of the wagon.

"Shay!" Varian stood in the cold distance between the girl and Lady Caine. The red strand was getting tighter, and the Lady began to be dragged closer towards where Shay stood near the gulch. "Shay, it's over, let her go!"

But Shay didn't seem to hear. She didn't even seem aware of what was happening around her. Her broken arm slowly moved upwards until she was holding the crimson thread with both hands. She looked lifeless, empty, and Varian knew she wasn't about to let go. He looked about frantically, his mind a wordless blur as he searched for something, anything to stop her from killing the woman.

His blue eyes fell on Spellbane, runes glinting in the grass like flecks of starlight.

Varian lurched forward, crashing to his knees as he snatched the sword up from the ground. He tried to regain his footing once, twice, before he found the strength to support his own weight under his feet. He half-held, half-dragged the sword over to where Lady Caine lay, breathless and clutching feebly at the magical cord around her reddening throat. Moonlight finally broke through the black atmosphere, streams of lunar light illuminating the landscape like a holy lamp as black spikes in the distance danced with eerie luminance. Varian could see blue flickering over his nose as he summoned every ounce of will left to raise the sword over his head, and he brought it down on the thread like an executioner at the beheading block.

The thread snapped cleanly in two, and the Lady rolled over, coughing and retching. The remaining strand dispersed into the night air in a flutter of dying sparks. Varian didn't wait for the Lady to regain her composure before winding his foot back and kicking her square in the face. Lady Caine fell back into the grass; unconscious, but alive.

"Hey!" Varian heard Angry yell through the buzzing of adrenaline in his ears. "We found the relic!"

"Rudiger!" Varian hoisted the sword back into its sheath on his back. "Get the bow!" The gigantic racoon lifted his weight off of Jorgen and ran to fetch his master's weapon. Varian sprinted to where Shay stood; her arms were slack at her sides, her shoulders slumped and unmoving. Varian gripped them and shook her, trying to get her to snap out of it. "Shay, we have to go. Now!" Was she in shock? Her hair was still a red blaze, and her eyes were barely open. What was happening? He grabbed her face, willing her to come back to her senses. A faint light seeped from his fingertips into her skin, and she jolted for an instant, as if he'd electrocuted her. A flash of purple light blinded him, and then Shay fell with a sigh.

"Come on, alchemist!" Angry heralded reality back to Varian's awareness. He looked to see that she and Red had procured one of Lady Caine's horses, and they both were staring expectantly in his direction. "We're getting out of here!"

"Right." Varian whistled for Rudiger. The racoon bounded to his side, dropping the bow in a slobbery mess from his mouth. Varian slung it over his shoulder and hauled Shay's body over Rudiger's back before climbing on. Killy was missing. What would Shay think? How could he tell her? Her arm was broken, he needed to bind it as soon as possible. As they followed the girls down the hill and deep into the moonlit night, he expected fatigue to overtake him. Instead, he felt invigorated, energized, his thoughts racing and wandering. The sight of the black rocks through the shadowy trees, once menacing and otherworldly, were now comforting and familiar. The feeling would have once sickened Varian, but at the moment, he didn't care. As they rode on, the thief girls said nothing to him. He could tell from their stunned, dazed expressions that they weren't in the mood to talk, but he was sure they had many questions. He wasn't sure if he wanted to answer any of them.

He wasn't sure of anything, anymore.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Will to Promise

**Lieutenant Yaeger took** in the moonlit sight of what remained of the Saison Bridge with a sullen expression on his face. The boy was low, to do something like this. "I was hoping the reports we heard in Newbarth were misinformed," he muttered to himself as he took in the sight of scorched rubble and blackened stone. "Looks like our scout was able to make it through before this happened." It was the only bit of good news he had for his men. He stiffened when he felt Caius approach from behind, and he tried to hide his discomfort by squaring his shoulders. "A minor setback," he announced with false confidence. "We will regroup at Newbarth and enlist a team to repair the damage immediately."

Behind Yaeger's back, Caius actually rolled his eyes. "And set your investigation back a week? I would not advise it, lieutenant. Your mark is younger than all of us, and he's not leading an entire scouting party. Within the time it takes for me to explain all of this to you, he can have crossed the capitol borders."

A low growl grumbled in Yaeger's throat. His 'consultant' was infuriatingly right. He turned to face Caius with a hostile expression on his grim face. "What do _you_ suggest we do, then?"

Caius turned his scarred eye to the west. "Follow the river to where it narrows," he told him. "Fell a tree and cross where the gulch is deep."

Yaeger coughed in disbelief. "And watch half of my men fall to their deaths?"

The witch hunter's gaze fell back on the lieutenant once more; something in his expression was cold, empty and unfeeling. When he spoke, his words were quiet and clipped, hard as stone. "Better to risk their lives and catch your target than to allow thousands of Corona's people to perish at the hands of a wanted treasonous criminal because you were too cowardly to do what must be done to fulfill your assignment. Or is that not what you've been trained for?"

Yaeger felt a vein throb in his temple as his blood pressure skyrocketed, and every muscle in his body tightened as he fought the urge not to haul in on the man's face. "I was trained to value the lives of my subordinates," he hissed indignantly.

"Sentiment is not something that is trained," Caius remained completely unfazed by the man's bristled demeanor. "It is something your commanding officers allowed you to keep. Whether you value the lives of your men or not is a personal choice, lieutenant. That value does not lessen when you command your men to do what they have trained for…to follow orders."

Yaeger gritted his teeth. Whoever this man was, he was implacable. Yaeger had encountered people like this before, when he was just a boy on the streets. The only way to shake an implacable man was to cooperate…until you had the leverage to make them back down. Yaeger gave his men a sideways glance; they were tired, their dark uniforms stained by rainy road travel, their hair unkempt and their faces framed by day-old sweat. But devotion flickered in the depths of their eyes, like a candle flame through a foggy window. They looked to Yaeger, awaiting instructions. They too would cooperate, for better or worse. Yaeger reminded himself that he needed to trust them as much as they trusted him.

With a deep breath, he drew himself to his full height and turned to face the group. "Steel yourselves, men. We will not be daunted by the enemy's tactics. Marcus, take Felix and return to Newbarth to enlist immediate repairs by my authority. The rest of us will head west and make efforts to cross the Saison by our own means."

Marcus and Felix nodded. "What's the rendezvous location, sir?"

Yaeger set his jaw. "East, at the mountain base. Fischer will be there."

Under normal circumstances, Yaeger wouldn't bother with using code. But he didn't trust Caius any further than he could kick him, so using 'Fischer' – a key word for the capitol harbor – was necessary to preserve the integrity of their mission. If, for whatever reason, this mysterious man was consorting with the boy alchemist, it was a risk Yaeger refused to take. Marcus and Felix saluted, their eyes unblinking as they silently acknowledged their commanding officer.

"You have your orders," Yaeger said. "Move out!"

* * *

The effects of the chimera serum didn't wear off until Rudiger planted his feet less than a mile from Old Corona. The racoon's legs wobbled and shuddered, and Varian knew it was time. He dismounted and gingerly pulled Shay down to the ground. As Rudiger reverted back to his normal size, the sky on the horizon began to lighten into a rich, navy blue. Varian took in the sight with weary eyes. Had it really taken them all night to get here? They had stopped once, to bind Shay's broken arm. Varian was worried she had injured herself even more after…whatever it was that had happened at Lady Caine's camp. To his surprise, the thief girls had waited for him to finish his work before pressing on; they still hadn't said a word to him, and the night had gone by in frigid silence.

Now, Varian breathed in the familiar smell of autumn blowing across the fallow fields of his home village. The scent of cold earth and dry leaves mixed with the unpleasant ghost of metal and oil, remnants of the battle he'd waged against the princess the year before. Once, it had weighed his spirit down with grief and anger. Now, he just felt tired and empty, like a pitcher run dry.

Angry and Red jumped down from their fatigued horse, their legs quaking underneath them as they rested from their ride. Red sat down, cradling her head in her small hands. Angry continued to stand, and as she turned to face Varian, she finally spoke. "This is where we say goodbye, alchemist."

Varian looked up from where he'd placed Shay on the ground, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Aren't you going to try and turn me in?"

Angry looked to her companion. Red glanced up from her hands. She said nothing. "We'll give you a head's start," Angry answered slowly. She sighed shakily. "We have more important business than chasing after someone who…might have helped us." She stepped over to Red and placed a hand on her head. "We should go."

Red nodded, and she shakily stood. As she turned to remount, she paused. She rounded on Varian, her eyes wide and clear. "She's wrong, you know." Her words were quiet, but piercing. "The Lady. You're not like her."

Varian blinked, surprised. "I…" He hung his head and looked away. "I could have been. Once, I almost was."

"But you've changed." Red gave a weak smile. "Like Eugene."

Angry frowned, but she said nothing. When she looked at Varian, her expression was softer. "Come on." She climbed back up onto the horse and hauled Red up after her. They both winced as they settled back into the saddle. Angry shot Varian one last look, blinking once. "See you around, Varian." Then they turned and rode east, towards the brightening horizon, their black and red heads growing smaller and smaller.

"I hope not," Varian mused to himself. He took a moment to drop back into the grass; he wanted a rest, just for a moment. The moment almost instantly turned into an hour of sleep – Varian didn't even feel Rudiger climb up onto his chest to join him. He didn't dream, and he wasn't visited by any strange phantoms. He just slept, unthinking, unfeeling, for one precious hour.

He was drawn back into the morning light by the sound of Shay crying; broken whimpers so mellow and weak, he almost thought it was coming from a child. He woke up, then bolted upright, and Rudiger jumped into the crisp grass. He scrambled to reach his bag for a painkiller, then realized he didn't have it. He'd left it at the Lady's camp…an entire trove of evidence. Horror gripped his insides, and he raised a hand to shove his dark hair out of his pallid face.

There was nothing he could do about it now. He had to prioritize. After a few seconds of panicked thinking, he had some semblance of a plan. He crawled over to Shay and reached for her, tugging her upright. "It's alright," he said, wiping her face with his hands. "We're safe, now."

Shay said nothing, but she nodded numbly.

"Can you stand?"

Another nod. Varian helped her to her feet, steadying her as she swayed. "Killy," he heard her moan.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. We have to keep moving. It's not far from here." Through her tears, she managed to give him a questioning look. "You'll see," he answered, forcing himself to meet her bleary gaze. "Just…don't freak out."

The distance wasn't great; Rudiger had brought them very close. But their footsteps were heavy, and Varian's head ached. Shay fell into silence behind him, like a wraith coldly creeping at his shoulder. The fingers of her good arm pinched the fabric of his jacket sleeve, as if she might slip away. Twice, Varian opened his mouth to speak to her, then decided against it. Rudiger was louder than usual as he trailed along, rustling and panting through the dying fields.

As the Sun broke at last over the trees, the sight of Corona's capital wall appeared. Varian felt Shay stop as she stared, backlit by the sunrise as her watery, mismatched eyes took in the scene that splayed out before her. The gaping hole in the wall, bricks shattered and spread in gruesome glory, the black rocks stretching forth like wicked thorns from the earth, ancient automatons rusting in hues of red and green, flecks of glass glittering in the dust and dirt.

"Welcome to Old Corona," Varian said, gazing with dead eyes at the remains of his home. "We'll get to my house and resupply there. What's left of it, anyway." He continued as he led the way down the hill. "We shouldn't have to worry about anyone finding us here. They'll be looking for me elsewhere, now. Besides, I don't think they'll be expecting –" Fingers pinched his sleeve once more, and he stopped when he felt Shay tug. He looked to see that she was giving him a very worried look. "What?" Then it dawned on him, and he smiled sadly. "I'm okay. This isn't the first time I've been back here. Come on."

He escorted her through the abandoned streets, the empty houses and metal debris. "Watch the spikes," he cautioned as they tread warily around clusters of the black rocks. As he passed, Varian could have sworn he saw embers stir in the depths of the ethereal stone. Crossing the old bridge spanning the stream that fed his land, he reached the remains of his father's house. There was no door for them to walk through, but half of the walls still stood after Varian's raging charge. The black rocks, of course, still stood there, fractured floorboards spitted precariously on menacing tips. Varian led Shay through it all, until they reached the decimated hole where he'd first erupted from what was left of his lab. The soldiers had left a fairly well-structured ladder in the wake of their investigation, something Varian was now grateful for. "Take it easy down," he warned Shay as he went first. He stepped down into the dark, ready to catch her if she fell. With only one arm, Shay's climb was slow, but she eventually made it down to his side.

Varian's lab remained untouched; it seemed the soldiers had been instructed not to touch any of his equipment, in case it was dangerous. Nothing had changed since he'd last been here. The rocks remained, and his father remained. His faint reflection in the amber seemed to mock him, and the frozen form of Quirin stood still and unmoving. The sight of it did little to Varian now. There was nothing he could do, yet. He brought up an overturned chair and gestured for Shay to sit.

Shay settled shakily down into the seat, her eyes refusing to leave the sight of Varian's father. Her hair was strewn in straggles around her pale face as she let Varian address her broken arm. "I didn't know," he heard her whisper as he carefully undressed the crude splint he'd fashioned in the woods. "You told me, but…I didn't imagine it like this."

"Wait here." He stood and crossed over to an untouched drawer, returning with a bottle of white cream. "This should help with the swelling."

As he reached to treat her, she held up her hand. "Wait." She swallowed thickly. "There's a spell in my mother's book."

But Varian shook his head. "You're too weak to cast spells."

Shay nodded wearily. "Yes. But you're not." With difficulty, she managed to produce the Crimson Caster's journal. It hovered patiently in the air, almost expectantly. "Take it," she told him. "It will show you the right page."

Varian stared at her for a long moment. Then he took the book, and it settled lightly in his shaking hand. He opened it, and the pages turned, snapping swiftly to the page he was looking for. Among the Celtic words, he saw the spell. "It's music," he observed aloud, tracing the inked notes and meter with his finger. He read it, and realization struck him like a lightning bolt. "I've heard this song before," he breathed. "But I-I don't know how to sound the words here."

"The words don't matter," Shay explained; her head hung low with fatigue. "You just have to understand it." She reached for his shoulder with her good hand. "I don't have weeks to wait for this to heal," she whispered as tears wet her face once more. "I know you can do this. I don't know how, but you can. Try. Please."

"Okay." Varian licked his lips. "Okay." He studied the measures, the beats, sounded the notes in his mind. He remembered the princess, the sound of her voice. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and he started to sing. At first, he couldn't remember the lyrics she'd used, but as his voice grew stronger, some of the verses came back to him:

* * *

Heal what has been hurt

Change the fates' design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what once was mine

* * *

Blue light spun in rivets from his fingertips, zipping and zooming like fireworks over Shay's swollen, purple skin. As the light faded, the bruising dissipated, like ink in water. Her fingers twitched back to life, and she flexed them without a wince. She hugged her fully healed arm to her chest, pressing a hand over her mouth. Eventually her fingers fell, and a grateful, relieved smile wobbled across her trembling lips.

"I did it?" Varian looked from Shay to the book. "Did that work?" Shay nodded. A sound cracked from his throat; a single chuckle of incredulous laughter. "I did it!" He felt elation fill his chest, bubbling into a fit of excited giggles. The euphoria was contagious, and Shay was soon laughing with him. He set the book on the ground and took her hand, turning her forearm back and forth. "I can't believe that actually worked!" After everything that had happened, everything he'd been through – to see an experiment succeed, even if it was magic – it was something he thought he'd never feel again. Dizzy with excitement and fatigue, flushed with the power he'd been given, he grabbed her startled face and planted a fierce kiss on her forehead. "It worked!"

Shay sat there, dazed and speechless. She reached up to touch the spot on her brow, and Varian felt her face grow warm as she stared at him. He realized how close he was; he was still holding her face. Sobriety returned to him in a hot wave, filling the space between until he had only two options: see what would happen if he leaned in, or throw himself backwards and tumble into a stammering fit. He chose the latter, looking everywhere except at her expression. If he had looked, he might have caught a glimpse of somber dejection. "I-I-I didn't – I was just…" He held his arms rigid at his sides, burning. "Food!" He suddenly gulped before she could say anything. "I'll, uh, food us find. I mean, find us food. Yeah, that's it." He turned awkwardly on his heel and half-walked, half-stumbled to the storage pantry at the back of the lab. He closed himself inside, stealing a few precious moments of solitude. He leaned against the shelves, trying to calm his hammering heart. A part of him wanted to stay in there for the next few hours…or years.

But he couldn't. He had to handle this in a mature manner. Whatever this was, that is. Yes, he could do that. Once he had collected himself, he cracked the door open enough so that he could see the contents of the storage. He grabbed two jars of blackberry preserves and sucked in a deep, clarifying breath before stepping back out into the lab.

To his surprise, Shay still sat in the chair; for some reason, he thought she might have left. The joy she had shown before was gone, and her mother's journal had disappeared once more. Her face was flushed, and she had made an effort to straighten the tangles in her hair. Rudiger had settled in her lap like a cat, his eyes closed as she scratched behind his ears. She was staring openly at Quirin's strange amber prison, brushing the back of her thumb over her lips. She jumped when she heard Varian fumble with a pair of measuring spoons in a drawer, and she barely acknowledged as he held out a jar for her to take. Varian crossed over to the other side of the lab and hopped up onto a cluttered table, broken glass vials disturbed as he sat heavily on the surface. Without a word, he began shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth; any excuse to not speak. He could feel her gaze on him, like the heat of a bright red poker boring between his eyes.

"Varian," Shay asked after a few moments of awkward, jam-eating silence. "Can we talk about what happened?"

Varian nearly choked on a swallow of blackberry as his heart started ramming his ribcage again. He'd hoped that something intelligent would come out of his mouth, but all he got was "What?"

"Can we talk about what happened at the…at the gulch."

"Oh." Relief washed over him like a bucket of cold water; Varian could almost feel the steam of it as his skin cooled down.

"I know you're tired," Shay continued, "and you really should get some rest. But if you could tell me…"

Varian swallowed down his discomfort and let out a reluctant sigh. "Well, I'm sure you probably don't remember much."

Shay shook her head. She looked anxious, afraid of what he would say. "I need to know…Did I hurt anyone?"

Varian struggled to find the right words. He worked his jaw, trying to speak. "Not…seriously hurt." He set his jar down, tapping his lip with the cold, blackberry-smeared measuring spoon. "This has happened before, hasn't it? That's why you asked if anything had happened when you passed out the first time."

Shay nodded, her chin tucked close to her chest. "Once," she mumbled, "when I was a little girl. Before my father died. Mother took me into the woods to look for potion ingredients. Poppies, elder moss, simple things. I strayed too far away from her, and I slipped down into a ravine." She gestured absently to her temple. "I hit my head. She looked everywhere for me, she said. My father came, and…" She sighed shakily, and her eyes drifted to Quirin's frozen form. "By the time they found me, it was almost dark. They said I was awake, but I don't remember. There were six wolves. A pack had found me, and…They were all dead." She hugged herself, and Rudiger reached for her half-eaten jar, oblivious to her distress. "Since then, my mother would lock my door at night, when I slept. She formulated the location spell I know, the one I used in the crypt. She was afraid something like that would happen again. _I_ was afraid something like that would happen again." She refused to meet his eyes, and she bit her lip as it started to tremble. "Eventually, she realized it happens only if I'm seriously hurt. It's like a –"

"Defense mechanism," Varian concluded for her. "Survival instinct. Your magic takes over when you have no control, to protect you." He forced levity into his voice. "Well! Now we know how to make sure that doesn't happen again. You just need to not get hurt. So we'll avoid any and all gulches and escaped criminals from now on."

Shay finally met his gaze. "Varian. There's something else. It's something I should have told you, the day we first met. It…well, it wasn't –"

Varian held up a hand to stop her. "I know." He took a deep breath and sat up straight. "You lived here once. Since you did, I'm sure that means we've met before." He smirked when she gaped and struggled to find words. "It makes sense. It's why you keep giving me strange looks, why you were so surprised when I first came to your mother's cabin. Why my father had a map leading me to you." He shook his head. "I should have figured it out sooner with that last one."

"I – I don't understand!" she gasped. "How did you…" She shook her head helplessly. "You knew this whole time?"

"Not the whole time," Varian admitted, planting his chin in his hand. "And I don't know why I don't remember, but I bet you know that, too." She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "You said it wasn't your secret to tell. I'm still not really sure what that means," he mused aloud. "But after everything that's happened, I'm going to go against my better judgment and trust that you have a good reason for not telling me." His expression turned bitter. "What I don't understand is why she didn't say anything about it."

Shay squinted confusedly. "'She?' 'She,' who?"

Varian hung his head, steeling himself. "She told me not to tell," he admitted slowly. "I shouldn't." He sighed again, long and slow. "But you deserve to know. I just hope you don't hate me for it."

Shock crossed Shay's tired, petite features. She stood and crossed over to where he sat on the table, drawing herself up next to him. She didn't say anything as he told her about the strange dreams he'd had. He told her about the vision of his father and the Crimson Caster. He recounted her mother's visit in Newbarth as she'd slept. He recited Lyra's message about the Celestials, and, after one more moment of hesitation, he confessed about the request the woman had made, to keep her trapped in Haderon's tomb.

By the time Varian finished, Shay was almost expressionless, emotionally wrung out and defeated. "I wish she had come to me," she whispered into the quiet morning air. "I suppose I'm jealous." She stared up at Quirin's frozen form once more. "I miss her."

Varian's hands were clenched fists in his lap, and his blue eyes drooped with grim resolve. "I know." He opened and closed his fists, and a few lilting sparks sputtered like blue embers. "But we'll get her back." He followed her gaze to where his father stood, fixed in amber like a statue. "We'll fix this, all of it. I promise." He dredged up the courage to look at her, his jaw set as he gritted his teeth. "And when _I_ make a promise, I never, _ever_ go back on that promise."

"Varian," Shay hesitated. "We're almost there, aren't we? To the capitol."

Varian nodded.

"How will we…How will we –"

"We will," he said. He didn't know how they would find Xavier, or what would happen when they did, or how he would avoid capture. But he had to believe that they could do it. He hopped off the table and repeated himself. "We will. Trust me."

Shay said nothing at first. Her hands twitched in her empty lap, longing for the warmth of her lost hare. As she watched Varian cross the lab, talking about sleep, she placed a hand over her healed arm. "Varian!" He turned, his blue eyes wide with alarm. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Varian gave a weak smile, but it faded as he turned, his face falling back into shadow. He whispered to himself, the words bitter and coated with self-doubt.

"Don't thank me just yet."


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Alchemy 101

Varian awoke to the sound of snow outside his shattered window.

It was so silent, he could hear the flakes falling, the wind running playful fingers through it like a child on a sandy beach. The cold breeze blew across his cheek, catching on his eyelashes as he sat up and yawned. The dim light outside made it difficult to tell if it was morning or evening. Either way, he was certain he had slept for too long. He crossed over to his pock-marked, soot-singed dresser and hesitated before opening a drawer; surprisingly, the capitol's investigators had sifted through, but left his garments untouched. He took a bundled black shirt and held it up to his nose. The faint hint of lavender soap was muted by his father's musk. The smell of it made Varian's eyes water, and he sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. _Soon,_ he thought. _Soon, it will all be over._

He dressed and crossed over to the broken window; since the water pipes he'd installed were in a state of disrepair, he had no running water, so he reached out gingerly past the fractured glass and scooped up a handful of snow to scrub the freckles on his sleepy face.

When he looked up, he saw something in the distance, past the months-old devastation and empty village houses. He couldn't tell what it was at first, but the sight of something moving was enough to snap Varian into high alert. He yanked on his boots, snatched his father's bow from the corner, and nocked an arrow to the string before bursting out into the lab through what was left of his bedroom door.

Rudiger had been waiting outside; the racoon jumped with a yelp when Varian emerged, and he scampered agitatedly around the floor. "Where's Shay?" Varian asked.

"I'm here," he heard her speak as she poked her pale face out from around the pantry door. It looked like she was replenishing their supplies for their last stretch to the capitol. "You slept all ni–" Her eyes went wide when she saw Varian's unkempt hair and urgent expression. "What is it?"

"I don't know yet," Varian said in a low voice. "Just keep quiet and don't go anywhere. I'm going to go check it out."

"Be careful," Shay warned.

Varian motioned at Rudiger to stay put; the racoon promptly sat down and watched as his human companion crossed to the ladder leading out of the lab. Varian disappeared as he reached the top floor of his home and ducked onto his stomach, crawling to the remains of an east-facing wall. The cold morning air nipped at his exposed skin, making his hot blood burn. He brought himself up underneath the broken window – where he used to watch the sun rise in the morning – and peeked one blue eye over the splintered pane.

He saw nothing at first; just the wind blowing snowflakes through the open air, drifting across rooftops and settling in his dark hair. Then a shape darted out behind a nearby shed, and Varian's fingers flinched across the fletching on his arrow. He drew it to the corner of his mouth and aimed over the window sill, eyes darting left and right to track the movement. The shape flew out again, and Varian realized it was too small to be human. It bounded closer, a grey-brown bundle loping up and down through the white snow.

A few moments later, Shay was startled when she heard Varian slip down the ladder, missing a rung as he tumbled to the floor. "Are you alright?" she called across the lab, hurrying over to see.

"I'm fine," Varian said brightly, chuckling under his breath as he pulled out a dismissive hand. He winced as he uncurled himself from his heap on the floor. "In fact, despite the extreme improbability, I have a present for you." He pulled his other arm away to reveal a wet, sniffling hare in his lap.

Shay's face lit up like the Sun at noonday. "Killy!" she exclaimed, scooping him up into her arms. She worked her apron over the hare's damp fur, drying him off as she crooned and fussed. "Oh, Killy. I can't believe you found me!"

Varian could hardly believe it, either; the hare must have traveled non-stop to reach them in time. How the creature had known where they would be was a mystery he could only chalk up to magic. "Do you feel better, Shay?" He asked as he stood, brushing the cold away from his wet arms.

"Very much," she answered, setting the hare down. Rudiger bounded close, sniffing Killy's face with his black nose. "I was so afraid he'd been killed. I thought I'd never see him again!"

Varian set his father's bow across a nearby table. "I thought it might have been a patrol. I'm glad it wasn't. I wasn't planning on sticking around here this long. I have work to do, and I don't have much time to do it."

The others watched as Varian disappeared back into his room. Two minutes later, he emerged with an apron-full of alchemical ingredients and tools. "Something you've probably learned about me by now," he grinned slyly, "but I always have a backup plan." He set his things down on the table and tugged on an old pair of gloves. "Funny how people always check under the bed, but they never check the mattress stuffing. That's right! I literally slept on a bed of potentially hazardous materials." He chuckled, then cleared his throat. "Of course, I'd prefer to have my entire alchemical repertoire at hand, but desperate times call for fickle guards confiscating everything they can get their uncultured hands on. Now, then – alchemy 101." He pulled his goggles from around his neck and planted the lenses squarely over his blue eyes. "Always wear protection."

After losing his satchel at Lady Caine's camp, the only item of importance Varian hadn't lost, aside from his father's bow, was his bundle of alchemical notes and leaflets. Varian had once considered writing down copies of his formulas, but he had ultimately decided that to do so would risk his work falling into the wrong hands. As such, he had only one very precious collection of every compound and procedure he'd ever made. If he had lost it, not only would he be suffering from a vicious cycle of depression and paranoia, but he would have had to recreate them all by memory, something he wasn't confident he could do. There was only one of his experiments that he knew he could make without reference, and that was Rudiger's chimera serum; he had practically meditated on it during the six months he'd spent behind bars. As he worked, Varian realized how self-conscious he was; he could feel Shay's red eye watching every move he made. No one had ever really bothered to observe his experiments first hand – is father was always too busy, and the villagers deemed Varian's work too dangerous to even get close to, let alone watch. He took extra care to accurately measure, add no more or less than what he needed, set his timers to the millisecond, and keep an eye on temperatures. It took almost two hours, but despite his nerves and lack of advanced components, Varian was able to successfully produce and resupply almost everything he had lost the night before.

Eventually, he leaned back with a sigh and removed his goggles. "There's just one thing I can't make," he mused aloud. "If I had just one bioluminescent agent, it could be…" He trailed off when a familiar pink vial was slid across the tabletop. He looked up at Shay and smiled. "Really?"

Shay shrugged without a word, but she smiled back. She helped him gather the rest of their things, tugging warm cloaks over their shoulders as they prepared to brace the first snow. The wind had died down, but fat clumps of flakes continued to shower from the sky in silvery sheets, demanding that they pull hoods over their heads the moment they emerged out into the open. As they picked their way carefully through the remains of the quiet village, Shay paused and gazed around at the still, lonely scene.

"Do you think…" She swallowed. "Do you think it will be rebuilt someday?"

Varian stopped and sighed. He'd asked himself the same question many times. "I don't know," he admitted solemnly. "There are a lot of variables in play right now. It's possible, but I don't expect it to happen."

Shay's face fell. "I remember how this place looked in the summer," she said quietly. "I always thought it was beautiful here. I never wanted to leave. I'm sorry," she suddenly said before Varian could speak. "We should go."

They made their way out of the village, up the abandoned road to the north. They followed the wagon-worn path for a while before Varian directed them across the white countryside. Eventually, he broke the silence to tell Shay about the strange storm that had struck the year before. "I heard the guards talking about it once, outside my cell. They claimed it was supernatural, some bad omen sent by an ancient spirit. Personally, I think it was just an abnormally low front that came through. It's not unheard of for it to snow that early in the year."

"I remember that storm. Killy hid under my bed and wouldn't come out." Shay shook her head. "I'd never seen anything like it."

"They said the princess had found some kind of device that was able to disperse the blizzard." He was about to make a comment about how he didn't really believe that was true, but he knew better now than to assume something as outlandish as a special storm-breaking machine was impossible.

The fields of Old Corona wore white blankets as they crossed the main road and into the trees, the fallow ground settling into sleep as early winter floated all around them. Killy slept in Shay's arms, and Rudiger climbed up onto Varian's shoulder, chittering as his coat bristled against the cold.

Shay's quiet voice filtered through Varian's thoughts, and he realized his mind had wandered off. "What? Sorry, I – "

"It's alright," she assured him. "I'm not very good at small talk."

"No, I'm sure you are," Varian said hastily. "It's just…"

Shay gave a small smile as he paused in his footsteps to glance at her. "My mother used to say a look like that will stick if you wear it too long."

Varian gave a sad smile. "My dad used to say that, too." He chewed his lip as he continued forward, leading the way pasted knotted roots and branches burdened with snow. "There's something that's been bothering me," he admitted. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Longer than I realized. According to the stories, Rapunzel used to cast this spell every night for her captor…the same one I used to heal your arm, except her captor used it to keep herself young."

Shay blinked widely. "I'd never heard it used that way before. I suppose it makes sense."

"Cellular regeneration."

"Yes," she agreed. "The princess must have a great deal of magic. Her captor must have taught the spell to her, to exploit her power. It's an ancient spell, from before Corona was settled. Many spells are."

The trees ahead opened up to reveal a snowy meadow, dead weed stalks poking up like frozen fingers through the white drifts. Varian made footsteps for Shay to tread in; she looked a bit silly as she tried her best to match his stride. "When she came to me after her hair grew back, she tried to sing the same song for me. I'd hit my head on…something, I can't remember what. Probably my magnifying station, it wouldn't have been the first time." He gave an embarrassed cough. "Anyways, she sang the song, but it didn't work. The spell."

Shay seemed to think about it for a long time. "Spells require magic to cast," she spoke slowly, almost talking to herself. "Anyone can use a spell, if they have the magic for it. You need a lot of magic to heal, though. It's why my mother couldn't save my father."

"So, you're saying it wasn't magic that made her hair grow back?"

Shay shook her head. "No, I'm sure it was, but it wasn't _her_ magic."

Varian stopped and turned, a confused frown spreading across his cold face. "I don't follow," he said, his words puffing out into the snowy air.

Shay wobbled mid-step as Varian stopped, but she managed to place her suspended foot in the space behind her. Killy blinked himself awake and abruptly flipped out of her arms, diving and flipping through the snow. "She can't control what's happened to her, right?"

"That's debatable," Varian muttered, remembering back to the night when the black rocks had conformed to the princess' will. He shrugged. "But she wasn't able to cast the spell."

"If it's not her magic, then she can't control it." Shay conjured her mother's journal and opened it to a page for Varian to read. "Here," she indicated. "My mother collected theories from other mages for her studies. The princess must be cursed by something. Or someone."

Varian read, his blue eyes peering as the sound of falling snow filled their ears. He was able to appreciate the quantitative formulas listed in the passage, even if it was in a language he couldn't completely understand. "So then…" He closed the book and hefted it in his hand. "Then I'm not cursed?"

Shay looked taken aback. "You thought…No, Varian. You have a great gift. I still don't know where it came from any more than you do. But you're _not_ cursed."

Varian let out a sigh of relief. He didn't know what answer he had been searching for until she'd given it to him. "That's…good." He cleared the emotion from his throat. "That's good." He held the book out for her to take, trying to keep his hand from shaking. "Thank you."

She took it back gingerly. "You're welcome."

They pressed on through more forest, dark canopies of pine and oak intertwining above them. The grey, prickly leaves bent low from their snowy burden. Rudiger leapt off of Varian's shoulder, scrambling up the bark with his black paws. Varian watched the racoon's ring tail dart about through the trees. "So," he spoke up again. "When were we going to talk about how you used to live in Old Corona?" He heard her breath catch in her throat. "How old were you, when you left with your mom?"

Shay seemed reluctant to answer at first. "Five," she whispered. "I was five."

"How old was I?"

"Six, I think, or almost. It was spring when we left."

Varian reached the edge of the forest, glancing out into the open plane of snowy ground before them. "When your father died, was I there?"

Shay stumbled, her eyes wide with shock. "What?, No, of course not! Why would you –"

"I'm just trying to figure it out," Varian answered nonchalantly. "Why your mother erased my memory." He glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow in her direction. "It was her, wasn't it? And you're not supposed to know, are you?"

"I…" Shay ducked her hard face away.

"So, why would she do it, then?" Varian continued as he started trudging across the field. "The only way I can reason it is to guess why I would erase someone's memory. Naturally, I assume your mother wiped my memory because I witnessed something she wanted me to forget."

"That's not why she did it, Varian." Shay's face reddened, and she started wringing her cloak in her hands. "It's not just that it's not my place to explain. Please understand, I…It's too painful for me to explain, too horrible and petty and just…wrong." She bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath. "It was wrong what she did, and if I could have stopped her, I would have. But I didn't understand what she had done until it was too late. And the worst of it is…I don't think you will ever get those memories back."

Varian realized he had set his jaw tight, and his expression was stony and cold. His hands had clenched themselves into fists, and his shoulders were stiff and rigid. "Then I guess it's just all the more reason for us to free her, isn't it?" He brushed snowflakes off his arm in a brusque gesture. "Don't tell me you won't have words for her, either, once this is all over."

The sound of snow compacting beneath rushing feet reached Varian's ears before Shay stepped in front of him. "And what of your father?" she pointed out. "He kept secrets from you, too. Don't you deserve an explanation from him as much as from my mother?"

Anger threatened to drown the meager dregs of patience in Varian's embittered heart as he exhaled sharply. "Yes," he managed to admit. "I'll have words with both of them, eventually." Then he made an apologetic look and sighed. "But that's not important right now. We need to – hide!"

A figure had appeared over the crest of the hill; Varian didn't even bother to process who it was before snatching Shay by the hand and dragging her back into the woods, crouching behind the nearest tree. After a few moments, Varian dared to peek out from around the dense trunk, peering through the bright light reflecting off the snow.

Shay gripped his sleeve. "Is it a patrol?" she whispered.

Varian shook his head. "No. It's a trade wagon, probably from the southeast coast." He could see the entire group now, maybe five people, with a disgruntled thoroughbred mare shaking snow from her dark head. The horse pulled a roofed box cart, the wheels caked with white and creaking from the cold.

"Should we wait until they're gone?" Shay asked.

A grin spread across Varian's cold-flushed face. "That…is our ticket through the capitol gates."


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Sufficient Belief

Claire and her husband Vincent loved little critters. Back in their hometown, Claire would often sit outside her kitchen window and watch as sparrows drank from the sill and squirrels chased each other through the fir trees. Vincent loved them less because they were cute and more because his wife loved them so much. Vincent worked as a stone mason, particularly a carver of more ornate pieces, like paperweights and marble brooches. Demand for his trade was scarce where he and Claire lived, so once every three months, Vincent would take his wares, load up their wagon, saddle their horse, and lead the way to Corona's capitol. Claire insisted she come each time, leaving their two children in the care of her sister. The trek lasted about two long days, and most of the way was uphill.

At about noon on the second day, on the first snow of the season, Vincent halted the wagon when he saw a hare leap out in front of his horse. For an instant, he hoped his wife wouldn't have noticed, but his hopes were quickly silenced when he heard her squeal with delight. "Oh Vincent, it's a hare!"

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at the sound his wife made. "So it is, dear," he mused.

Claire leaned out from her seat on the wagon bench, trying to get a closer look. "Oh, it's so cute! I didn't think hares lived around here."

"They don't," Vincent agreed. "They tend to live further south." He stared as the hare came cautiously up to the wagon wheel, its nose twitching and sniffing. Then it leapt up onto the bench and started to scratch behind one ear with its large foot.

"Oh Vincent, it likes us!" Claire beckoned to it, making clicking sounds with her tongue. The hare stopped scratching and slowly sniffed its way into her lap. Vincent's wife squealed again. "Oh Vincent, can we keep it?"

"What? No, we can't keep it," Vincent protested. "It's a wild animal!"

"Oh," his wife said again as she stroked the hare's downy head. "So soft! Well, I'm not about to throw it back out into the snow, Vincent."

Vincent sighed. "Alright. I do think it's strange that it doesn't seem afraid of us. But don't be surprised if it runs off later." He snapped the reins, and the horse continued forward. A few minutes later, they scaled the hill towards the main road, and the castle island came spilling into view below. The snow finally settled down, and the tiny forms of bustling people through the city streets became visible, like ants marching to and fro. The ocean surged around the island like a grey blanket, silver waves crashing gently on the shore.

"I always forget how beautiful this place is in winter," Claire marveled out loud.

Vincent hummed a note of disapproval. "It's not winter just yet."

"Ah," Claire reached for the hair at the nape of her husband's neck. "I know you don't like the cold. At least you don't have a field to worry about."

"We'd have more money if I had a field," he grumbled.

They made small talk down the bank, winding their way carefully down the freshly-blanketed path. The hare in Claire's lap seemed to fall asleep; she could feel its little heart beating through her woolen skirt. Soon, the capitol bridge spanned before them, and Vincent urged his horse to a stop as the guardsmen moved to check his wagon. "I hate that they do this, now," Claire muttered under her breath. "Ever since that alchemist boy kidnapped the queen –"

"Hush, darling," Vincent warned. "They're just doing their job. They're trying to protect us as much as the next person."

Claire hummed a note of disapproval, but she said no more.

The guards didn't take long to glance into the back of the wagon; all they saw were Vincent's carefully-cut merchandise and an old, ceremonial broadsword. The guards shrugged, agreed the wagon was clear, and allowed Vincent and his wife to cross. Claire let out a sigh of relief as they entered through the wide gates, gazing lovingly at the pale, friendly masonry. "It's always nice to see the capitol."

"Yes," Vincent nodded with a small smile. "It means we get to make money."

"Oh!" Claire exclaimed as the hare in her lap woke up and scampered down from the bench. "Wait!" she called out to it, but the hare didn't seem to hear, and she watched it disappear into a stream of human feet.

"Don't worry, love," Vincent assured her. "I'm sure it had a reason for coming with us. It can take care of itself."

Distracted as the hare vanished into the cobblestone streets, Claire and Vincent did not notice a very frightened-looking girl and a hooded figure sweep out from the back of the wagon and flee down the nearest alley, clutching a large sword in the girl's arms. They ducked under a vacant shop sign and paused to catch their breath.

"Do you think anyone saw us?" Varian asked, glancing back and forth down the alley. He felt Rudiger wriggle his way up past the clasp of his cloak, almost snapping it off as the racoon breathed in a gulp of fresh air. "Sorry, Rudiger. You're going to have to stay down just a little longer."

Shay didn't answer; she'd managed to cast an invisibility spell when the guards had come to search, but the spell had dissipated the instant she'd picked up the sword. She pressed her back into the wall of the empty shop, as if she was trying to melt into it.

Varian's stern expression relaxed into a relieved smile when he saw Killy race down towards them. "Nice work," he complimented the hare; the creature responded with a firm thump of his foot and a twitch of his nose. "Now then, let's see if I can get my bearings." He made a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I've actually come through this side of the city before. I don't suppose you happen to have a map of the capitol in your mother's journal, do you?" When no answer came, he looked over. "Shay?"

Dread flooded his veins when he saw that Shay had shrunk to the ground, crouching low and clutching her father's sword to her chest. She was shaking from head to toe, her breathing quick and shallow, and her eyes were wide and unblinking. Killy stepped over to paw at her foot, but Shay didn't even seem to notice. "Shay," Varian tugged his hood off and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, come on. Look at me. Look at me, Shay."

Shay swallowed hard. "What am I doing?" she whispered out loud. "What am I doing here? What were we thinking?"

"Shay, stop."

"They'll find us, they'll find us and throw us in prison…" Panicked tears started to stream down her pallid cheeks. "Oh, dear God!"

Varian snapped his fingers under her nose, and she gasped with a start. "Listen," he hissed. "We are _not_ going to prison, okay? We're going to find Xavier, get the answers we need, and then we'll leave harborside and go back to the Haderon Forest. We'll go back, and it'll be like you never left." He gripped her shoulder, and her frantic eyes finally focused on him. "Come on, where's the girl who helped me fight the undead last week? You want to save your mom, right?"

Shay took a moment to process the question. She nodded shakily. "W-what if we…what if we –"

"It's not going to happen," he shook his head. "I'm here, Shay. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He reached for Spellbane and tugged it out of her grip, slinging it over his shoulder. Then he reached for her hand and pulled her up to her feet. "You don't let go, okay?" he instructed, squeezing her fingers. "You don't let go, we won't be separated. Got it?"

Shay said nothing; her face was still alarmingly pale, and Varian was worried she would retch. But she set her jaw tight, and she pressed her lips together in a firm line as she gave another nod.

"Good." Varian stuffed Rudiger back down into the pocket of his apron and pulled his hood back up over his head. "If we can get out to the main street, we should be able to narrow it down from there. Come on." He led her down a few more alleys and around a few more corners, the cold stone biting back at the anxious heat in his blood. "There," he said with a forced note of cheeriness as a stream of people became visible up ahead. "I recognize that road. That's east, towards the bakers' district, which means the castle is to our left." He frowned. "Now to find Xavier. It would help if I knew what he looked like, or what he does for a living."

"I…" He heard Shay give a shuddering exhale, and she used her free hand to wipe the clouds from her vision. "Let me look." Her mother's journal appeared, and she peered down at the pages as she searched. "I think he's a blacksmith. Yes, he is! It says here he forged my parents' wedding bands."

Varian frowned; a smithy would be found wanting for decent cover, away from prying eyes. "Let's hope he's in a hospitable mood," he grumbled to himself. "Alright, I know where a smith would be." With the sword on his back, it might even prove as a good cover story, in case the man tried to ask questions. He carefully led Shay out into the street, blending quietly in with the people as they milled about, gossiping to each other and bargaining with shopkeepers.

"So many," he heard Shay breathe.

"It's alright," Varian coaxed her along. "They're just people, like you and me, like the people in Ghislaine."

"Right. Okay." He felt Shay hesitate as the full view of the castle emerged ahead, its slender towers and flickering purple banners soaring against the cloudy sky. "It's beautiful," she whispered in awe.

Varian knew it was risky, but he let her pause and appreciate the sight. "Yes, it is," he agreed. "It's even better on the inside." He glanced at her and flashed a wry grin. "But we'll break into the castle another time. Come on, we're almost there."

Shay gasped before he could turn around. "The guards!" she hissed.

The word snapped Varian to attention, and he quickly yanked Shay forward at a double pace. They ducked around the closest street corner just as the guards turned their helmeted heads in their direction. Varian's face grew hard as they took an unplanned shortcut through a back alley and underneath a woman's line of laundry; he narrowly avoided a pair of paisley-printed bloomers latching onto his nose.

They emerged out onto a jeweler's street corner; a good sign. Jewelers sold their wares in the same area as the blacksmith, since they often collaborated with each other. Varian looked for the telltale sign of steam and red-hot metal and was rewarded with the sight of a swarthy, broad man with a thick, grey beard, carefully placing his latest creation into a slack tub, the metal cooling instantly with a sharp hiss and a bloom of vapor.

Varian was just about to lead Shay towards him when he felt a very cold, gauntleted hand clasp his shoulder. "Just one minute," he heard the guard's voice, icy and stabbing in his ear. "Where do you think you're going with a sword like that?"

Shay's grip on Varian's hand was numbing. He could feel against his chest that Rudiger had stopped breathing. He had a millisecond to think of something, anything. His free hand darted under his cloak, reaching swiftly for a gas compound, an arrowhead, anything he could use to escape –"

"Ah!" He heard a warm, loud voice proclaim. "A customer! Come, come! My grindstone has been longing for a masterwork to sharpen!"

"Coming!" Varian heard Shay cry, and she nearly tore his arm out of its socket as she surged forward. Miraculously, the guard's grip on his shoulder slipped, and he was free.

The blacksmith beckoned with a frying-pan-sized hand, a wide beam spreading across his dark face. "Come," he said again as they approached. "Let us step inside for a moment. It looks like you require my services."

Varian let Shay lead this time; she followed the blacksmith past the yellow fires of the forge and through a mahogany door. He almost tripped over Killy as the hare darted inside; they found themselves inside a modest living room with a bench, a large table with three chairs, a mantelpiece filled with numerous vials and trinkets, and an old fireplace with an empty spit. It looked almost like the Crimson Caster's cabin, except the blacksmith's home was much warmer and full of life. A peace seemed to push at Varian's soul, and he fought the urge to relax in this pleasant place.

The blacksmith closed the door behind them and dusted his hands off. He said nothing at first as he tugged off his leather apron and draped it with care on a wall peg. He turned and took in the sight of his guests, his deep eyes staring at the blade on Varian's back. "If I may?" he finally asked, stretching his hand out.

Varian looked to Shay. Shay gave a single nod. Varian unbuckled the strap and carefully handed the sword over. The blacksmith unsheathed the blade, observing the runes and tempered metal with an expert eye. "I have seen this weapon before," he mused thoughtfully. "It belonged to Captain Cain, a priceless gift he received from the Keeper of the Spire." He placed the naked sword on the tabletop with the care of placing a child in its crib. In the same thoughtful tone, he continued, "I believe he hoped to pass it down to his firstborn son, but I know for a fact that he and his wife were blessed with a daughter instead." A sad note made his next words lukewarm and somber. "His life was ended before he could have another child. An unfortunate turn of events."

"It is you," Shay sighed with relief.

Xavier nodded slowly. "Strange that Cain's daughter is traveling with a traitor to the crown." He focused on Varian's frozen face. "You do know that housing a traitor is a…well…a treasonous offense?

Varian felt alarm flare up his spine. He gestured openly to Spellbane and managed to speak in a calm tone. "You were friends with the Crimson Caster. Something tells me it wouldn't be the first time for you. Besides, if you know who I am, then why did you just help us?"

Xavier gazed at the blade and sighed, "Touché, son of Quirin. You have a quick tongue, which you certainly didn't get from your father. Quirin has always been a man of few words, for as long as I've known him. He is a good man, a good friend. Of course, you have my sympathies, but that does not mean I condone your actions against the crown." He shot Varian a split-second glare, white-hot and tranquil with fury. "The princess is dear to Corona. Six months in prison will not suffice."

"I know," Varian answered firmly.

They stared at each other for a protracted, painfully quiet moment. Then Xavier returned to staring at the blade. "To answer your question, the only reason why I stopped the guards is because I know they would charge the young lady as an accessory." His eyes fell upon Shay. "And since I am unaware of any criminal activities she may be involved in, I will give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, if you are traveling alone, it means something has happened to Lyra." He gestured to the red eye hidden under Shay's hair. "I would recognize that eye anywhere, child. You needn't hide it from me."

Shay tugged her stiff fingers out of Varian's and reached to tuck her hair out of her face. Varian removed his hood and pulled Rudiger out into the open, setting the racoon on the floor. Rudiger yawned and curled himself around a table leg, his ring tail twitching as Killy settled down next to him.

"Sit," Xavier offered, his voice regaining the warmth from before. "For now, at least, you have nothing to fear. Now, tell me, why has the son of a knight and a witch's daughter come to see me?"

* * *

It was evening by the time Varian and Shay had finished explaining. Varian had done most of the talking; he could tell that Shay was still shaken, and she was probably tired from the journey. The streets had emptied as citizens returned to their homes for the night, and the smell of home-cooked meals filtered in through the cracks of Xavier's door. As the blacksmith listened, he fixed them a simple dinner of yeasty bread and flaky cheese; Varian was astonished at the man's hospitality towards him, and he struggled with a loss for words as he gratefully accepted his food.

After a few minutes, Xavier noticed Shay's uneaten plate. "Eat, child," he told her. "You need your strength."

Shay reluctantly took her bread and ate a very small bite. Her eyes hadn't left her father's sword the entire evening.

Xavier sighed, leaning back in his chair with his hand laced over his stout belly. "It seems you will not be satisfied until you know I won't betray you." He traced a cross over his left breast. "As I live and breathe, no one will know the son of Quirin was here this night. Or in the morning, since you both will need a place to sleep. For now, I must ask you both to be patient." A kind smile tugged at the corners of his bearded mouth. "I think I have an idea of how to help you. I will tell you when the dawn comes, when your minds are sharp and you're well rested."

Rudiger and Killy darted up the stairs as their host led them into a side room. He gave them blankets and a single candle to light in the darkness. He turned to Shay and placed a gentle hand on the crown of her head. "I have another room, if you'd like," he told her.

Shay shook her head under the weight of his hand. "No, I…" She glanced hesitantly at Varian. "I'd like to not be alone."

Xavier smiled. "Very well. I'll leave you to your rest, then."

Varian, who had knelt to spread the blankets down, jumped up as the blacksmith turned to leave. "Wait," he followed him out onto the landing. "I…" He stared down at his feet. "Thank you," he whispered. "You didn't have to do what you did for us. I recognize that."

Xavier reached out for Varian's shoulder. "It is what your father would do for me, boy. Though, perhaps you are not so much a boy, anymore."

Varian felt his eyes water; for an instant, it felt like his father's hand was resting on him, and the hollow pit in his chest flickered with an ache he could hardly bear.

Then Xavier pulled away, and his hand fell back to his side. "For what it may be forth," he said, "I hope you will be given the opportunity to atone for your actions."

Varian swallowed thickly. "That makes two of us."

"I hope to believe it, in time." Then the blacksmith disappeared down the stairs, the candle flame in his hand casting flickering shadows along the wall.

Varian returned to the side room, leaving the door ajar. He saw that Shay had already folded herself into an agitated bundle on the floor, curled up next to Killy with the back of her thumb pressed to her mouth. He could see dry tracks of saltwater stained across her cheek. He wondered if she had already fallen asleep, but he could see her red eye wide open and staring at the opposite wall.

"Shay."

She twitched.

"You need anything?"

He heard her swallow. "It's so strange," she breathed. "From the minute I left home, every second of every day, I've been terrified. I've tried so hard to keep it hidden. I suppose I haven't done a very good job of it. But now, I…I think I'm excited."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because we're finally here." Her red eye swiveled and stared at him. "We actually made it. We stopped Caius. We escaped guards and bandits. We found Xavier. For the first time, I believe. It's such a wonderful feeling." Her red eye closed, and she almost seemed to melt into the floor. "Thank you, Varian."

Varian understood. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. They really had come a long way. For some reason, he had a feeling they still had a very long way to go. He knew he did, at least. But she was right; by some miracle, they were here. They were safe. And, for now, at least, they had someone on their side. He nudged Rudiger out of the way as he knelt down carefully and swept the girl's face clear; she didn't even stir. Varian realized he was just as fatigued, as he lowered himself down next to her and almost immediately lost consciousness. Just before slipping away, he prayed that no phantoms would come visit him as he slept. In twisted answer, his rest was assailed by vicious nightmares: dreadful visions of death and anarchy, of the tree he had seen in flickers within Haderon's tomb. The stream he had glimpsed was ablaze with white fire, and instead of a little girl's laugh, he heard a wretched scream.

As he turned towards the sound, he saw a blue stone, opalescent and blossoming with light. He tried to reach out for it, but his arm wouldn't respond. There was an arrow in his shoulder once more, blood dripping down to his fingertips. He saw his reflection in a mirror, saw the blue light in his hair, his eyes. Then, like a candle flame, it died, and he finally awoke in a cold sweat.

The sound of a guard's footsteps echoed on the other side of the door.


	21. Chapter Twenty: The Lunar Celestial

Varian didn't take the time to check his surroundings; his hand immediately launched out towards his father's bow and scrambled to extract an arrow from the quiver. He had just managed to nock the fletching to the corner of his grimacing mouth when the sharp, clanking footsteps stopped outside the door. He held his breath, waiting for the knob to turn. Sweat slid down the back of his neck, cold as ice, and his heart raced in his chest as he aimed where he believed the man's head would be.

The door creaked open, just a hair, before he heard Xavier's deep voice. "Come now, young man! You don't think I would hide an escaped prisoner in my own personal bedroom, do you? Besides, don't you need a writ seal from the king to investigate a man's private quarters?"

Varian heard a hissing sigh from the other side of the door. "Fine," the guard said gruffly. "I suppose you're right." The door didn't close, but the footsteps began to echo further down the hall. "Sorry," he heard the guard apologize. "It's just that we've all been a bit overzealous about security lately, and we really did hear a suspicious report from this area."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Varian heard Xavier casually dismiss the apology. "I can't imagine the stress it has all been for you."

"Yeah, it's been…interesting. But just so that I have something to report back, it really is just you and your niece here?"

Niece? Varian's eyes darted to his right. Shay wasn't there. "Would you like to meet her?" he heard Xavier offer. "I'm sure she would be –"

"No, no," the guard protested quickly. "That won't be necessary. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Of course. You have a wonderful day, now!" More footsteps drawing further away, the sound of a door closing, and then silence flooded Varian's ears.

A few moments later, Shay burst into the room, gasping when she saw the arrow trained over her head. "It's alright!" she exclaimed, ducking down just in case he let loose. "It's just us, now."

Varian lowered his weapon with a sigh and collapsed back onto the blanket. His body still thrummed with adrenaline, but his heartbeat steadied. "That wasn't fun," he wheezed. He lifted his head to stare at her. "Where did you go?"

Shay's cheeks colored. "The privy," she mumbled.

"Oh." Varian set his head back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Xavier's burly form filled the doorway behind Shay, his dark eyes somber with guilt. "You must forgive me, children. The guards have been particularly quick to scare. It is alright, now."

"It doesn't feel alright," Varian admitted out loud, his dour tone betraying his bitter irritation.

He heard Shay step forward after a moment and kneel down next to him, folding her hands in her lap to keep from wringing them. "Yesterday was…hard for you." Her mismatched eyes were sober. "I've been too foolish to see."

Varian looked up at her and shook his head. "It's not your fault. I just…" He sat up and looked to Xavier, drying the sweat of his hands on his pantlegs. "For the first time in a while, I'm not sure what to do."

Xavier cracked a white smile. "Isn't that why you came to me? In fact, now that I think about it, that's why anyone comes to me." He chuckled, and the sound painted the room orange with warmth. "Today, my smithy is closed as I attend to…personal matters." He winked one dark eye and unfolded his hands from the pockets of his apron to beckon to his guests. "Come! You must eat and prepare for a little adventure."

"Where are we going?" Shay asked.

Xavier tapped the side of his nose with a playful, calloused finger. "Someplace where we may be able to find answers to your predicament."

* * *

It was mid-morning when Varian pulled his hood over his tousled head and followed Xavier out into the streets of Corona. Rudiger hid in the folds once more, his hot breath licking under Varian's chin. Killy stayed behind, the hare dozing comfortably by the door as they filed out into the open air. The sun broke out between somber clouds, flickering white light filtering in fleeting frames through the frayed fibers of his cloak. The smell of melting snow mingled with the scent of rotting leaves and wet cobblestone, a heady aroma that made Varian feel cold and lonely with nostalgia. He kept his blue gaze towards the ground, refusing to look at anyone they passed. Shay noticed him pause for a moment, and she reached shyly for his fingers to pull him along. Varian allowed himself to be led wordlessly behind their cheerful guide, listening in and out of a very one-sided conversation.

"It has been a long time since I've heard anything about the Celestials," Xavier explained as he parted his way through a crowd. "Very few have heard of them, and even fewer believe they truly exist. In a time when magic did not feel the need to hide from this land, the existence of these elemental guardians was accepted as much more plausible." He glanced back at Shay over his shoulder. "I'm sure your mother has taught you about them."

Shay shook her head.

"No?" The blacksmith's eyes widened. "I'm surprised. I should have thought that Lyra would have told you of the pact she made with the Seven Sisters in her youth."

Varian ran into Shay as she abruptly stopped; her grip on his hand tightened to the point of pain. "What?" she gasped.

"Ah," Xavier mused, unfazed by Shay's reaction. "So, you've heard of them, at least." He led them south, past yawning shopkeepers and down into a grey alley. Varian noted absentmindedly that they were heading closer to the abandoned aqueducts, ancient waterways that had been walled off nearly two centuries ago. "And what is it that you know of them?"

"I know that they're dangerous," Shay exclaimed. "Their power was invoked by blood mages during the dark times!"

"Yes," Xavier agreed solemnly. "But they were also called upon to cast light into the darkness, to feed fires when all kindling was gone, to banish weakness from the frail and forlorn." They were alone now, standing before a bleak stone wall. Varian could see an outline in the man-made face, a rough edge in the laid brick where an opening had been filled. They watched Xavier reach for a stone on the right, his large fingers deftly tracing a small rune etched into the surface. "The Seven Sisters serve as the Stellar Celestial, the weakest and most essential of the elemental paradigm." He pressed the stone, and it slid against the mortar until a booming noise reverberated on the other side of the wall. There was a sharp crack, and then the wall started to give way, sliding itself aside in a plume of dust. "You can imagine, then, how much more powerful the other Celestials must be."

Varian frowned as he peered into the depths of the revealed tunnel, batting away the dust with a dismissive hand. "What exactly are we supposed to find down here?"

"You said that Lyra spoke of the Celestials in your vision," Xavier explained as he produced a torch from the dark and used a flint to light it. The flames illuminated a sagely glint in his gaze. "It would explain the seemingly boundless magic you now find in your possession."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Xavier spread his arm out into the darkness, an invitation for Varian and Shay to follow. "Perhaps this will. Come. Let us see what answers lie in the deep. Though I warn you, whatever answers you may find, you might not wish to hear."

Varian sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding to its limit. Then he took the lead, Shay still clinging to his hand as he strode unflinchingly through the tunnel entrance. Rudiger scrambled out into the black, his claws skittering on the cold stone. The light of Xavier's torch licked at the dim walls, illuminating sheets of white algae and black mushrooms creeping from the cracks. Varian glanced once behind him and saw the light from the entrance grow smaller and smaller, then disappear entirely as they rounded a corner, surrendering them completely to the light Xavier held.

"Shay," Varian whispered as the ground beneath them began to slope downward. "What do you think? Do you know where he might be taking us?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted after a moment. "But I can feel something. Something ancient and old." Her red eye flickered in the dark as she blinked. "Something that's been here for a long time, I think."

"Xavier," Varian spoke for the blacksmith to hear. "How do you know of this place?"

The man chuckled; the sound of it seemed to brighten his torch. "How did you learn of the vault beneath the castle? How did you manage to replicate and modify the potion I made? I know of it," he said when he heard Varian's breath stop. "If your exemplary skills hadn't been used to commit treason, I would be much more impressed with your intellect."

Varian made a disgruntled sound; again, the blacksmith hadn't really answered his question, but he decided to let it go.

"How did you meet my mother?" Shay suddenly asked, her small voice hesitant and apprehensive.

"I met your mother many years ago now," Xavier answered. "In truth, she found me. She has always been very good at finding people. She had come to me for a precious metal, just a sliver she could use in an experiment of hers. She can't have been much older than either of you. I can still remember the look in her eyes when she offered payment. I could tell it was nearly all she had, and it certainly wasn't much. She seemed to be alone in every sense of the word. I encouraged her to keep in touch, but when she left, I believed I would never see her again. I was surprised then when she returned less than a month later. She didn't ask me for anything. She just sat by and watched me work. Curious child, she was. Simple, and yet so very complex. I think she came to look upon me as the father she never had." They heard him chuckle again, but the sound had less heart than before. "A shame I didn't fill the role as well as I should have."

Silence swelled in the pitch, amplifying the sound of Varian's breath in his ears. Shay said nothing as she dwelled on Xavier's words, but her grip on Varian's hand had turned cold. Rudiger scampered in and out of the shadows, the creature's eyes glinting like pearls in the firelight. They kept going deeper, and a muffled boom reverberated through the air from the upper walls. "We must be close to the harbor," Varian speculated out loud. "Sounds like waves on the sea wall."

Xavier nodded. "So we are. In fact, this tunnel leads to the sea floor."

"That's impossible," Varian scoffed. "There's no way that kind of structural integrity would hold under the weight of a body of water like that."

Their guide didn't answer. He led them further on, and the tunnel began to brighten up ahead. Shay let go of Varian's hand as darkness ebbed, and a sight unfolded before them unlike anything they had ever seen. The tunnel ceiling stopped, and they stood on the border of the island's sublevel. The stone beneath their feet continued forward, and rough sandstone walls funneled the way forward, but the open ceiling submitted to a roof of sea. There was no barrier between the tunnel and the ocean water surging and pulsing above them; Varian was certain that if he was tall enough, he could reach up and soak his hand in it. Colorful streams of fish streaked in silvery strands, blinking curiously before darting away. Sunlight filtered down through the depths, gracing the tunnel with arches of wavering blue beams. There were no words to describe the sudden reverence that permeated the alchemist's soul as he stood in awe of what he couldn't even begin to explain, and he actually felt tears well in his wide eyes.

"How?" he breathed.

Again, Xavier didn't answer. He blew out the torch and placed it with care into a sconce at the end of the tunnel. He led the way down the new path, a wide smile on his bearded face. Varian followed slowly, marvel dragging at his heels as he drank in the sight like a man half-scorched with thirst. He realized after a few moments that Shay had said something to him, and he managed to tear his gaze away as the girl returned to the mouth of the tunnel to retrieve Rudiger. The racoon had been cowering in the shadows, too fearful of the otherworldly phenomenon before him to continue on his own. "It's alright," he heard her say as she crouched for the creature and returned to Varian's side.

Rudiger leapt like a cat into Varian's chest, shaking and shuddering with his face hidden in his paws. Varian impulsively kissed the racoon's ear and turned to follow Xavier once more. More fish swam overhead, saltwater droves twinkling like stars in the blue expanse. He could feel the moisture in the air, smell the tang of it in his nose, taste it on his tongue. "How?" he asked again, not expecting an answer. He wasn't sure if he had grabbed Shay's hand or if she had grabbed his again, but he held it like it was the only tether he had to the real world. Like Xavier, Shay didn't say a word.

They walked on, listening to the sound of the sea. Xavier was a dark pillar of purpose ahead, striding confidently as he led the way. After what seemed like hours, he finally stopped at a metal plate on the ground, just wide enough for them to stand on. Varian could see that the plate was engraved with a number of symbols and runes. He recognized two of them: the symbol of Corona, and the strange emblem from his father's chest, map, and the door to Haderon's tomb.

"Xavier," he asked, indicating the symbol with his foot. "Do you know what this means?"

"That is a symbol from the kingdom your father once served," Xavier explained, "from another lifetime I'm sure he's never spoken of."

Varian shook his head, reminded of the passing statement Xavier had made the night before. "No, he hasn't." A memory flashed through his mind of the argument he'd had with his father, just moments before he'd become trapped by the wicked amber in Varian's lab. Not for the first time, he wondered just what was written on the note in his father's frozen hand, trapped under ten feet of crystal he couldn't break. He took a shuddering breath to calm his nerves. "But I'm sure he will, when this is all over."

Xavier hummed a neutral note, then planted his feet on the plate. "Come," he told them. They gathered close together, and as Varian stepped forward, his heart picked up speed in his chest as the plate began to lower. They descended slowly through the air into a vast, domed chamber, the floor lined with mosaics of marble and limestone. Fluted pillars circled the concave ceiling, the hole left by the plate funneling a piercing beam of light into the space around them. Rudiger dared to peek out from behind his paws, and his shaking stopped. Shay's jaw was latched tight, her red eye struggling to view it all as it darted and swept every which way.

"It is said that this chamber was crafted by the Celestials themselves," Xavier explained. "It is here that we may be able to contact one of them…hopefully whichever Celestial has taken an interest in your ambitions."

The plate touched down into the dais at the center of the chamber, sliding into place like a puzzle piece. Varian hesitated before stepping off; the instant he did, a resounding boom echoed through the chamber, like the crack of lightning bolt. Before Shay and Xavier could follow, the plate lurched upwards once more. Shay was jolted to her knees, and she cried out Varian's name as Xavier held her secure on the escalating platform; the blacksmith's eyes were wide with shock.

"No!" Varian shouted. He dropped Rudiger and threw himself into the space where the plate had been. He stared helplessly as his friends as they grew smaller and smaller over his head. The sound of Shay's pleading voice grew further and further away. The pillar of light turned into a dim ring, like a solar eclipse, before the plate slid back into its place on the surface. Varian lost his breath as the chamber plunged into black, the darkness pressing against his vision like a smothering blanket. He reached a hand over his tight, hammering chest, clutching a fistful of fabric as he scrambled through his bag for a bioluminescent agent.

"That won't be necessary, son of Quirin."

Varian jumped, startled by the voice. It sounded like a woman, deep and contralto. He stopped searching through his bag and reached for his father's bow instead, drawing an arrow to the string. "Who's there?" he demanded.

In response, a circle of light bloomed around him, ethereal light shimmering in swathes of otherworldly blue. Varian hadn't noticed before, but the walls of the chamber were made completely of the black rocks, their glassy surface resonating in a ring of terrible, beautiful magic. Varian could feel the now-familiar tingling on his scalp as the streak in his dark hair began to glow.

As the light of the spikes filled the chamber, a woman appeared from the shadows. She was at least eight feet tall, proportionally larger than any human Varian had ever seen. She was clothed in the same light as the black rocks, flickering in white flames over her statuesque form. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, her features delicate as porcelain, and her eyes burned white in the dark of her floor-length black hair. Shots of blue sparks zoomed like falling stars through the strands like fireflies in a forest.

"You can pick your jaw up off the floor now, young man," the woman mused at Varian's slack-jawed expression. "I am easily thousands of years too old for you."

"I –" Varian clapped his mouth shut, and he straightened his posture. He kept his bow steady, but he drew the string only halfway. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled. "Intelligence and bravery. I was aware of the first, but not the second." She stretched a hand out towards him, her fingers loose and curious in the still air. "I have been given many names by the tongues of men. Lune, Luna, Lunaris, Lycanthris, Tsuki, Gealach, Solsbane…take your pick."

Varian swallowed. "Luna," he blurted.

Luna smirked. "The one your language is most familiar with," she mused as she lowered her hand.

"You're a Celestial," Varian said.

"That is the term by which mortals refer to us, yes."

Varian frowned, his hand tightening on his arrow. "I thought Celestials weren't supposed to have a physical form."

"Generally, we don't. But, considering how skeptical you are about matters outside the realm of what you call 'science', I assumed a form that would be less…well, would you prefer if I looked like this?"

The arrow in his grip clattered to the floor as Varian threw his arm over his eyes, shielding himself as the Celestial transformed into an orb of lunar light. The heat of it made his face flush, and waves of energy nearly knocked him off his feet. He felt Rudiger latch onto the back of his leg, the racoon hiding his masked face in the leather of his boot. Varian managed to brace himself, forcing his arm down as he squinted through the glare.

Then there was another flash, and the light in the chamber returned to its human form. Luna assumed her smirk once more as Varian's vision readjusted. "I thought not," she said with a note of unexpected warmth.

Varian tried to collect himself, his thoughts racing in his head too frantically for him to form a proper sentence. "So," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "So then…Are you the one who did this?" He held his hand out, and blue sparks fell from his fingertips.

Luna laughed; the sound was like a high, tinkling bell, bright and full of energy. "Is that not why you are here?" she exclaimed. Then she suddenly became sober, her white eyes brimming with moonlight. "The gift I have bestowed upon you is not something I 'did'. It is something I took careful thought of, something I have pondered across multiple lifetimes. In each life but this, I selected no champion. But in this life, it was absolutely necessary."

Varian paled. "What do you mean, 'each life'?"

Luna frowned, and she actually planted her hands on her hips. "It is so difficult to explain in human words." She sighed. "I am not mortal, but neither am I deity. I am a being that exists within a number of possibilities, and so I live within those possibilities in a number of different ways. It is how I was created, to serve my purpose in all realms of knowledge and purpose. I believe one Demanitus used the term, 'quantum causality', if that helps."

It did help, but not much. Quantum causality was a concept Varian had only briefly explored; the idea of it was beyond theory, branching into an area of speculation that no scientific practice could explain, at least not one he had heard of. "Okay," he exhaled. "So, in this lifetime, you're saying something's different. Something that made it necessary to give me this…gift."

Luna's eyes narrowed even further. "It _is_ a gift, son of Quirin, one you must use if you are to put a stop to the machinations of the wicked one."

"Stop the – no!" Varian stammered. "No, no, no, I'm 'stopping' anything, and I'm nobody's champion. I just want to free my father!"

The Celestial's hands balled into white fists, knuckle bones peering eerily through her pale skin. "Freeing your father will be of little concern to you if the entire world is destroyed," Luna said in a commanding tone. Her voice reverberated through the chamber, echoing in Varian's ears. "Zhan Tiri must be wiped from the face of life. He is a spoil, an abomination upon the planet we Celestials would grace with our light. He thirsts for poison and shrouds his followers in the antithesis of joy. He would seek to destroy our will and claim his own. You _must_ prevent this. I demand it!"

"But why me?!" Varian shouted.

Luna took a step forward, just one step. "You are special, son of Quirin. In every lifetime, only you have the mind and capacity of will to best serve as my harbinger. In any other lifetime, it simply would not be feasible for me to choose a vessel, a champion of my will. And so, you would remain untouched by my hand."

Varian still wasn't satisfied. "Why is it feasible in this lifetime?"

Luna raised her hand again, her slender fingers extending towards the plate at the top of the chamber. "Because of her."

"Her?" Varian's angry expression softened. "Shay."

The Lunar Celestial nodded slowly. "In every other timeline, that child is dead."

Varian's blood froze. "What? Dead, dead how?!"

"Killed by the man with the burning sword."

"Caius." The witch hunter, the one who swore he would never hurt his own flesh and blood. That day, when Varian had found the Crimson Caster's home. If he hadn't come, what would Shay have done that day? The day after? Would she have gone to Ghislaine, by herself, for the last time? Varian wiped a hand down his shocked face. "Because I wasn't there. Because I would still be in that cell."

"Just so." The ring of light around them flared as Luna's voice rose even more. "Your escape from that prison set in motion a chain of events that could never have happened in any lifetime but this. It is why you have my gift, the blessing of the Lunar Glory. With this blessing and that of the Coronan princess, you will be able to slay the demon Zhan Tiri and prevent him from poisoning the rest of the cosmos. But you cannot do it without Pleiades."

Varian's head hurt, blood pounding in his forehead as he kneaded his temple with the palm of his shaking hand. The princess…Rapunzel. "The Seven Sisters…But Xavier said Lyra commanded their power, not Shay."

"The Crimson Caster has been sealed away, cast into the deep by an unholy power the demon commands." Luna took another step and swept her hand upwards, illuminating an expanse of images on the chamber ceiling. Varian watched as symbols blazed across the limestone; he saw constellations intertwining with sunbeams and crescent rays of moonlight. "The Seven Sisters call upon multiple vessels," the Celestial explained. "With the child alive, Pleiades now has a medium through which to act as a mediator between the sun and the moon, between myself and Solaris. Without that tie, there is no way for my power for unite with his." The light seemed to dim in her eyes, and a forlorn expression ghosted across her perfect face. Then her gaze was firm once more, and her white eyes settled on Varian's flushed face. "We _must_ have Pleiades. There is no other who can serve as the bond."

Rudiger whimpered; a high, keening sound that Varian barely heard through the roaring in his ears. "But I…I can't," he breathed. "The princess would never agree to it. Even if she did, she's halfway across the world!"

"You are my champion," Luna declared. "Distance is meaningless, your purpose assured. The Sun's vessel _will_ submit."

"You don't understand," Varian pleaded. "She won't trust me. No one does!"

The Lunar Celestial strode forward, each step closing the distance between them. She towered over him, a beacon of unyielding authority. She paused, then reached with both hands and placed them carefully on his shoulders. Then she smiled.

"I trust you," she said.

Varian felt something well up inside him, something warm and bittersweet. It seemed to fill him from his toes to the crown of his head, flooding his heart like a dam had burst open. They stood there like that for what felt like hours, communicating something that Varian couldn't describe in words. He didn't ask why, didn't ask how. He bowed his head as he realized the feeling inside him was humility.

"What must I do?" he asked.

"You must obtain my tear." The Celestial took her hands away, leaving Varian feeling lighter on his feet. "The man Demanitus once called it the Moonstone."

The stone from his dream flashed through his mind again; Varian was certain it was the same.

"If Zhan Tiri gets ahold of what is now your right to possess, everything I once sought to protect will be decimated. You must retrieve my Moonstone. Only you can wield its power properly, without corruption or despair. My power is meant for rebirth, not destruction, to start again brighter than before. Do this, and your father will be spared the devastation of this planet, along with everyone else you now hold dear. If you don't…" Her smirk returned, her teeth stark white against her lips. "Well, I won't have a need to kill you myself because you'll already be dead."

Varian's brain felt like it was going to explode. "How do I find it?"

"Pleiades will show you the way. They are the pathfinders, the strand that will lead you through the dark."

"What about the Crimson Caster?"

Luna chuckled; this time, the sound was deep and ominous. "Defeating Zhan Tiri requires the power to destroy worlds, transform and renew them at your very will! I should think it goes without saying that once you've conquered Zhan Tiri, the one called Lyra will go free."

The words slipped out of Varian's mouth before he could stop them. "Are you sure?"

The Celestial bent down until her face was directly in front of his. "Am I sure?" she repeated the words slowly.

"Okay, fine, stupid question," Varian grumbled.

Luna stood up straight once more, a look of mirth twinkling in her depthless gaze. "I like you, son of Quirin. Know that as you travel, wherever the moonlight reaches you, there will I be also. You do not walk this path alone. You walk in the sunlight, where I cannot live. I will light your way in darkness when you cannot see. Together, we will succeed. I am with you, Varian of Corona. Fear my gift no more." She lifted her hand, and the plate overhead began to descend. As it did, sunlight spilled down into the chamber, and all other light disappeared. Varian saw one last smile on the Celestial's face before it faded into the shadows.

"Go, son of Quirin," her final words drifted to him. "Claim your destiny."


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: Clarity

The dying sunlight filtering through the water overhead cast a sharp shadow across the metal plate as Varian reemerged from the Celestial's chamber. He stared down at it, his dull gaze hazy with immeasurable emotion and an almost overwhelming degree of fatigue. His fingers were splayed loose at his sides, his head hung low as his troubled thoughts swirled in a muddle of half-understood phrases and images in his head. Rudiger shivered at his ankles, his ring tail tucked low and his ears pressed flat to his small skull. Varian numbly picked him up and placed him shakily onto his shoulder.

A voice cut through the pallor of Varian's dim world, like a clarion call through a cathedral, and he managed to look up as Shay rushed towards him. She looked bedraggled, as if she'd rung every fiber of her clothing in fear, and her eyes were wide and watery with relief. She balked when she saw the look on his face, her arms faltering in the air and cringing back into her chest before she could embrace him. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly. "You've been gone for nearly four hours!"

Four hours? Varian would have expressed shock, but he was already too stunned to show the proper reaction. He saw Xavier approach from the corner of his eye, the blacksmith's dark gaze filled with a mix of wonder and apprehension. "What happened, boy?" he asked, his voice soft and low.

The question hung in the still air like a feather, drifting liltingly to Varian's ears. "I…" He tried to find the words, tried to explain. When he couldn't, he realized that, for all his efforts and all the information he'd been given, there was still so little he didn't know. It felt like he had been asked to scale a mountain with nothing but his bare hands, searching for something at the summit he didn't even know how to recognize. The impossibility of it threatened to overwhelm him, to break his spirit into a million pieces. How was he to even begin such a task when he could barely move his feet, let alone describe it?

Xavier must have understood, because he rested a guiding hand on his shoulder, urging him off the plate. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss things elsewhere," he suggested quietly. "The magic of this place is too strong."

Varian said nothing; he allowed himself to be steered back onto the underwater path, towards the underground tunnel. He felt himself stop when Xavier paused, looking back towards the plate. Varian turned with him and saw Shay standing over the metal plate, staring hard down at the engravings. Her brow was furrowed into an almost apoplectic look, and she lifted her foot as if to step forward onto it.

Varian suddenly snapped out of his stupor, abrupt and jarring, like he'd just been slapped awake. "Shay!" he barked, his voice hoarse and sharp.

Shay stopped, and her snapped her face towards him. Something alien rested in her gaze, something cold and depthless.

Varian slowly shook his head, his blue eyes burning. At first, he wasn't sure she would obey. But slowly, Shay's foot came away, and she started walking back to them. She said nothing, but lingering notes of anger still colored her cheeks.

"Come, child," Xavier spoke quietly, ushering her forward with a look of concern on his bearded face. "This place has given us all it can offer."

The journey back through the tunnel was unsettlingly quiet, but Varian's thoughts started to coalesce with each step he took. In the darkness, his brain began to run stratagems, almost by habit, projections of possibility replacing the chaos the Celestial had wreaked there. They emerged back out into the dim alleyway by the forgotten aqueducts, and the fresh, crisp air of Coronan autumn filled his mind with even more clarity.

Enough clarity for him to recognize Caius on the other side of the city street.

The witch hunter's good eye was searching, a peering slit scanning the people as a scout lieutenant sneered grumpily at his side. It looked like a few more soldiers were with him, their faces weary with exhaustion. The scar on Caius' face stood out like a white crevasse, wicked and pale as bone.

Dread and fear gushed through his veins with the rush of a broken dam – the sight of Shay's uncle accompanying a returning scout patrol was enough to make him gasp out loud as he abruptly halted on the spot. "Get back," he hissed, shoving Xavier's hand away from him. "Get down, back the other way, now!"

Shay looked ahead and saw; she froze as well, struck by terror as if by a lightning bolt. When she didn't move, Varian practically threw her backward, catching her by the waist when she almost fell. Xavier didn't ask questions as he followed them quickly down the back of the alley and around a shadowy corner, their feet striking hard against the cold cobblestone.

"How did he find us?" Shay gasped. "How did he find us?!"

"Xavier," Varian shot a glance over his shoulder at the blacksmith. "What's the quickest way?"

"Follow me," Xavier answered, quickly overtaking them in the lead. For a large man, he was surprisingly quick; Varian almost had to sprint to keep up. His heartbeat rushed through him as he tugged Shay into pace and followed their guide down an adjacent alley and down a steep curb towards Corona's city square.

"Wait!" Shay stumbled to a stop, forcing Varian to lurch back. She pointed to Xavier. "Take his hand," she instructed.

"What?!"

"Just do it!"

Varian gave Xavier a bewildered look as the blacksmith snatched his hand up in his. Shay's fingers tangled around Varian's other hand, and she recited a spell almost too hastily under her breath. Varian knew the spell by now, and he watched as his feet disappeared underneath him. Invisible, Xavier continued leading them out into the public square. The crowds were just thin enough for them to navigate without bowling anyone over, although Varian came close to losing Rudiger from off his shoulder. The creature was not terribly fond of being suspended over five feet in the air without being able to see what was beneath him. They rushed by the center fountain, cool spray misting across Varian's hot cheek as they passed.

"Here," Xavier whispered as they crossed under the jeweler's eave and into the vacant smithy. He let go of Varian's hand, and he became visible as he ushered them quickly inside. He closed the door behind them and turned to face the two teens as Shay released the spell. Killy woke up with a start as they came in, sniffing excitedly as he leapt off the chair. "I know," Xavier interrupted before either of them could speak. "I remember Caius, before he disappeared after his brother's death. I'd believed him to be dead."

"I'm so sorry," Shay confessed, wringing her sweaty hands. "It's my fault he's here. He wants my father's sword so that he can break the seal on Haderon's tomb."

Xavier's eyebrows rose up his dark brow. "You said your mother was trapped there, yes? Then he still intends to kill her, after all these years. It appears some things refuse to die."

"We need a way out of Corona," Varian insisted. They looked at him, saw the determination on his face. "If Caius finds us here, I guarantee he'll kill us."

Xavier nodded solemnly. "What did you have in mind, boy?"

Varian pursed his lips. He crossed over to the table, where Spellbane rested on the mahogany surface. "We can't leave the sword here," he explained. He picked it up and sheathed it, then sucked in a deep breath. "We're going to have to split up."

"No," Shay exclaimed. "No, we can't do that, he'll find you!"

"If we don't split up, there's a higher percentage he'll find us both," Varian countered. "This way, statistically, at least one of us can make it out without being caught."

"Yes, and it has to be you. I've told you before, Caius is my responsibility, not yours!" She reached to take the sword from him, but Varian jerked it out of her reach. The girl froze, and her hands clenched. "Give me my father's sword, Varian."

"No."

Shay blinked in surprise. "Varian, I should be the one to take it."

Varian strapped the blade tightly over his shoulder. It settled on his back like a wall, heavier than he remembered. It felt good there, as if his purpose had solidified. "I can't let you do that," he affirmed.

Shay looked desperately to Xavier. "Tell him, he can't do this!"

Xavier raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender, an unspoken reply that he was staying out of it. "The only thing I can secure for the both of you is a safe departure from my home," he told them. "Where you go from there and how you succeed is not for me to dictate. You must decide on your own."

"Shay," Varian grasped her shoulder and nudged it once. "You know this is the best way. You know where south is. Follow the flow of the people, they'll help you find the gates."

"But then where am I to go?" Shay asked. "Where will I find you?"

Varian set his jaw. "Mount Saison." It wasn't far, and being a mountain, it was easy to find. "There's an old quarry on the east side, bled dry years ago. Find me there, and I'll tell you what we have to do next."

"Varian…" Shay bit her lip, her fisted hands shaking at her sides. "Alright. I'll try."

"Xavier," Varian looked to the man. "I won't speak for myself, but she was never here."

Xavier nodded. He raised a finger, a request for them to wait as he turned and made his way up the stairs. He returned with a vellum book in his hands, thick with yellowed pages and embossed with the Coronan emblem on the cover. "Take this," he held it out to Shay. "Of all the books your mother sought in the castle's library, this was the one she read the most."

Shay stared widely at the tome. "How did you…?"

He made an almost witty smile. "I am a man of many talents."

Shay took the book gingerly and magicked it away. Then she reached to hug the blacksmith; her arms barely managed to circle around him. "Thank you," they heard her whimper.

Xavier placed a hand on her head. "I shall pray for you both." He fixed Varian with a genuine look of concern. "Pray that this ends peacefully."

Varian said nothing, but he gave a single nod. "Rudiger," he placed the racoon on the floor, then pointed to Shay. "Go with her. She'll keep you safe."

Rudiger whined, pawing at Varian's leg; the leather of his boot caught on the creature's black claws.

"Come on, don't be like that." Varian reached down and stroked his soft head. "You don't need me, anyway. I'll be fine."

Rudiger continued to whine, but he slowly set himself down and made his way over to Shay, padding hesitantly around her ankles. Killy joined him, sitting patiently on the floor. Shay reached down to pick them up, tucking the hare under her arm and setting the racoon on her shoulder. He wobbled there, unused to the narrow ledge Shay offered. "It's alright," she steadied him. She looked to Varian, fixing him with a desperate stare, the same one she'd given twice before.

Varian spoke first. "If I'm not there within the next two days –"

"Varian –"

"Listen to me! If I'm not there within two days, you go back to your mother's house and find out everything you can about the Moonstone."

"Moonstone? I-I don't –"

"Please!" Varian almost shrieked between his teeth. He sighed shakily. "Please," he said more quietly, "promise you won't come looking for me. What matters is that you stay as far away from Caius as possible. Promise me, Shay, you _won't_ come for me."

"I…" Shay gritted her teeth and glared at the opposite wall, forcing herself to keep from crying. Then she forced herself to meet his eyes. "I promise," she whispered. She took her free hand and made the now-familiar gesture, speaking the spell and disappearing from sight. A few moments later, they saw Xavier's door open and close, a waft of cold air filling the space where she passed.

Varian couldn't help but shiver, and something heavy and empty plummeted into the pit of his churning stomach. A girl who had barely left her home, who had lived all alone for over seven years, and he had just sent her out into the largest city on the continent with no guide and hardly a farewell while her murderous uncle prowled the streets with a seasoned scout patrol. He knew she had never been to Mount Saison; what if she couldn't find the quarry? What if she got hurt? If he wasn't there, he wouldn't be able to stop her magic from shutting her down, like before. What if they didn't even let her through the gates? If Rudiger broke out of the spell and was spotted, they'd take Shay in an instant. He raised a palm to his forehead, shoving his hair out of his face as a cold drop of sweat slid down his jaw, his breathing shallow and tight in his chest. He knew it was the best way, but the emotional weight of his decision was almost maddening because he knew – this time for certain – if something went wrong, he would be the only one at fault for it. And now that he was champion to some otherworldly being, chosen to usher an end to an age-old conflict with a demon from an old wives' tale, the consequences would be too steep for him to recover.

"Varian," Xavier beckoned softly. Varian tore his tortured attention away long enough to see the blacksmith extending a folded piece of parchment out to him. "Under any other circumstance, I would not give this to you. However, since I have technically already aided and abetted you, I doubt I will be digging myself any deeper, for turn of phrase."

Varian pinched the parchment into his shaking hand. "What is it?"

"Something you'll need if you wish to avoid the patrol." Xavier took a step forward, and he suddenly towered over Varian like a bear. "Do not make me regret what I have done for you this day."

Varian tucked the parchment into his pocket and extended an open palm. "I won't," he vowed. Somewhere at the tail-end of it all was his father breathing the free air again. He _had_ to succeed.

Xavier shook his hand, a firm grip that left Varian's arm tingling. "Be cautious, Quirinson. It seems there is far more at play here than soldiers pursuing a traitor."

As they parted and Varian stepped away, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the last friendly face he would see for a long time. As he folded his hood over his head and reached for the door, he stopped to look back at Xavier once more.

"When the time comes," he murmured, "I just want to know…will you stand for me or against me?"

Xavier gave his answer, words only for Varian's ears. Then he watched as the boy ducked swiftly through the doorway and out into the streets. As the door closed and he was left alone, Xavier listened to the quiet of his home and wondered aloud into the air:

"So, it is true, Lyra. I should have believed you the first time. I had hoped too much that you were wrong."

* * *

Caius didn't see Varian or Shay leave the blacksmith's shop, but he could smell traces of magic in the air, like blood mixing in water. The scent of it was almost acrid in his nose, and it seemed to set his skin on fire. His hand flinched before he remembered the absence of his brother's sword on his back; for the first time since Haderon Forest, he felt empty without it. His blind eye widened, and he stood still in the city street, ignoring Lieutenant Yaeger's cough of protest.

"Is there a reason why you've stopped?" the lieutenant frowned coldly, glancing irritably at his subordinates. His scouts were too well trained to show any emotion, but he could see unease in their eyes.

"The boy is here," Caius answered in a low, growling voice. He sniffed once, his mouth set in a thin line. His calloused hand reached out and latched onto the arm of a nearby patrol guard. The guard froze, stiff as a board as the witch hunter stared him down with his steely gaze. "Tell your superior to lock all the gates and ground all ships preparing to leave harbor."

"Belay that order, soldier!" Yaeger snapped, flashing his insignia in the guard's direction. He grabbed Caius' arm and tried to force the man to let go. Caius slowly released his grip, training his piercing look on the lieutenant's glaring expression. "It's two days in the stocks for assaulting a guardsman of the crown," Yaeger warned in a seething tone. "If you would care to explain why you suspect the boy being here, I might be willing to turn a blind eye."

"Your target has employed a witch," Caius tersely explained.

Yaeger's face stalled, then cracked as he chuckled under his breath. "You honestly expect me to believe that? There's no such thing as witches –"

"There are," Caius cut him off, his words slicing Yaeger's sentence in half. He loomed over the lieutenant, the scar on his face burning in a white line. "More deadly and dangerous than you can imagine. They feed off of the naivete that has permeated this world, festering like leeches in the dark. Soon, you will know it as plainly as the sun rising in the sky at noonday. There was magic here, which means the alchemist is nearby."

Yaeger did his best not to look shaken. To his credit, the edge in his voice remained. "You have no proof, and if I have no proof, I have no grounds on which to call a city-wide lockdown. The captain would never agree to it."

Caius took one step back and turned to face the castle spires to the north. For a moment, something flickered across his stony face. It might have been regret, or even sadness, but it came and went too quickly for Yaeger to be certain.

"Then take me to your captain," Caius said.

Yaeger sighed. "You know I was planning to anyway, don't you?"

Caius allowed the smallest smirk to tilt his weathered cheeks. "You show promise, lieutenant. We're wasting time. Let's go."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two: The Missing Star

**The stone under** Varian's feet darkened as the sky overhead grew thick with clouds, threatening to snow again. His head down low, he hastily pulled out Xavier's note; he was so quick to do it that he nearly ripped the parchment as he folded it out against the nearby wall, the cold of the brick seeping through the paper and into his fingertips. He groaned deep in his throat when he saw the chicken-scratch Xavier wrote in; making it out was almost as bad as deciphering the Crimson Caster's journal. "Let's see…south of the farmer's market…take a left towards the…" He squinted. "This should be it. But I don't see any –"

"Check down here," he heard a voice say near the end of the alley. He froze and peeked down the path to see a patrol guard strolling casually towards him. Varian felt panic escalate from his stomach and into his throat, wrapping around inside him as his breath caught. He frantically began sweeping the wall before him with his desperate hands, screeching in his mind to find the right niche before his time was up. Xavier's note crumpled in his sweaty palm, his finger finally felt an indent within a crevasse, and he jammed fiercely at the trigger.

The wall slid out before him as the guard rounded the corner, and the soldier gaped openly at the teen as he threw himself inside. Varian's system surged with adrenaline as he scrambled to close the secret entrance, shoving himself with twice his normal strength against the false wall. "Come on, come on!" he growled through his teeth. With one final shove, he cut off the light of day, forcing the entrance closed with the sound of grinding stone.

But not before the guard managed to fling himself in.

Darkness flooded the cold space, leaving Varian horrified as the guard's heaving breaths filled his ears. He reached hastily into his bag, scrounging around for the pink vial Shay had given him. He whipped it out in time to see the guard lunge for him; Varian ducked, and the guard went tumbling over him with the force of a bookshelf. They both crumpled to the ground, and Varian found himself in a very sloppy, very one-sided brawl. It didn't take much for the trained soldier to pin the alchemist to the dusty earth, his arm wrenched painfully behind his back and his hair tossed askew, the vial in his hands tumbling from his fingers in a clatter of clinking glass.

"I knew it!" The guard exclaimed breathlessly. "I knew you would come back, you little brat!"

Varian opened his mouth to make a salty retort, but he stopped when he realized he recognized the voice. "Martin?" The prison guard who was on duty when Varian had escaped; his tenor voice and surprisingly light weight confirmed it. "Martin, wait –"

"Save it, kid," Martin cut him off, wrenching his arm tighter behind his back. "You're the reason why I got shoved into the back end of the city slums. Do you know what happens when you're the one on guard when the top criminal in Corona decides to escape prison?" Varian felt the guard shudder. "You become a joke, a laughingstock! I'm lucky I wasn't thrown into the stocks! But if I turn you in, I'll regain the respect I deserve, and then some."

It had been a while since Varian had seen Martin, but he could tell immediately that the guard was bluffing. He could feel the hesitation in the young man's grip, hear the wavering tone of fear behind his caustic words. "Listen, Martin," he grimaced, ignoring the pain in his arm. "I don't want to have to hurt you, so can't we just –"

"Na-a-ah, I don't want to hear it," Martin huffed, hauling Varian to his feet. He might have been young, but the soldier knew how to keep Varian restrained. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're not escaping again. This time, the king will be sure to give you a _real_ trial, not some half-baked hearing like when you were first dragged in. Now, let's…"

Martin trailed off when he realized what Varian already knew. With the stone entrance closed, there was no way to reopen it from their side. Varian heard the guard's breath catch, and the grip on his arm weakened for an instant. Varian took his chance and swerved, wrenching his arm out of Martin's grip and whirling on the spot with an arrow in his hand. He flicked the tip in Martin's direction as the guard made to lunge at him, and the soldier stopped in his tracks.

"Here's how it is, Martin," Varian said, forcing himself not to revert to his habitual, chill tone. "We can't get back out the way we came in. This tunnel wasn't designed for that."

Panic flashed in Martin's eyes, flickering through his helmet in fragile flecks of reflected light from the still vial of pink fluid on the ground. "Then…then what do we…" He reached to take his helmet off, revealing the ashen expression on his pale face. His hair was straw-blonde and sweaty, his eyes bloodshot brown, and weak stubble framed his clenched jaw. "Fix it," he demanded through terse teeth. "Whatever it is you did, you fix it right now!"

"I can't," Varian answered bluntly. "The only way out now is forward."

"You're a lying liar, and I don't have time for your games!" Martin's hands were shaking so much that he dropped his helmet; it fell to the ground with a clatter, eliciting a startled yelp.

Varian took no advantage of the guard's minor meltdown. In fact, he sighed and sat down on the ground, tucking his arrow away. The helmet was close enough for him to reach, and he slowly took it in his gloved hands. "Are you ready to listen to me, now?" he asked calmly.

Martin's eyes twitched down at him. He didn't move, but he didn't say anything, either.

"You want to bring me back for trial. That's something I was prepared for even before I escaped. Once I've accomplished what I've set out to do, I swear by my father's blood that I won't resist arrest. I won't try to run, and I won't hurt you."

Martin made a sharp sound of disbelief. "Like you can hurt me," he mumbled.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Varian dismissed. "The point is, at the end of all this, you win."

"But not before I let you go about causing more trouble, hurting other people instead?" The dull look of fear in Martin's eyes was burned away by indignation. "I don't think so, kid."

"Come on," Varian snapped. "You're what, three years older than me? Do you really have to call me 'kid'?"

"I could think of a few lesser things to call you."

Varian rolled his eyes. "Fine. Yes, there are things I still need to do. Important things that involve saving people, not hurting them. This isn't about just my dad anymore. It's about something much bigger than that." He looked at the helmet in his hands, fingering the filigree of Corona's crest. The symbol flickered in hues of pink from the small vial on the ground. "This isn't about redeeming myself or about apologies. This is about people's lives, now." His blue gaze flicked up to Martin's pallid face, and he extended the helmet out to him. "You're a Coronan soldier, aren't you? Isn't that what you're all about, saving people's lives?"

Martin seemed to have stopped breathing. He stood there, unmoving for nearly half a minute. Then he hesitantly reached out and snatched his helmet from Varian's fingertips. "I'm saving lives by making sure you're brought to justice," he said thinly. "Now, show me the way out of here."

Varian scooped up the pink vial and held it tightly in his hand. He hadn't planned for this, but he could work around it. Once he made it back to Shay, they could figure out together what to do with Varian's new 'friend.' In the meantime, Varian would have to make sure he didn't do anything to aggravate Martin to the point of doing something stupid…especially when they were travelling through an unknown, secret tunnel. "Come on," he said to Martin as he took the lead. "And don't fall too far behind. We don't know what's down here."

"If you don't know what's down here," Martin said as they started following the tunnel walls, "then why did you come here in the first place?"

"This tunnel is supposed to lead us to Mount Saison."

Martin choked on a swallow. "Mount Saison?! That's almost twenty miles away! It'll take us hours to get there!"

"Yep," Varian quipped. "About six-and-a-half, if you factor the average walking speed, which might be even slower if you keep freaking out every five seconds. So," he paused and turned, the light in his hand illuminating his condescending smirk, "think you can handle being underground for the rest of the day with a dangerous wanted criminal as we venture into the unexplored chasms of Corona's ancient and deadly countryside?"

Martin's brown eyes narrowed to slits under his helmet. "Just keep moving," he growled.

They kept on in silence for a while. Varian sifted through his bag for his watch, which triggered Martin's restraining grip on his arm. "Will you relax?" Varian shook him off. "I told you, I'm not going to hurt you." He pulled out his watch and checked the time; it had been an hour since they'd first entered the tunnel. "Besides, weren't you the one saying I couldn't if I tried?"

Martin gave a dismissive grunt. "What's that, anyway?"

"It's a watch, to tell time." Watches were a luxury in Corona, often expensive and used as a show of prideful wealth. Naturally (and since he couldn't afford to buy one), Varian had made his own. "Time that we're wasting. Let's keep moving."

After a few more minutes of walking, the tunnel started to narrow. Soon, Varian and Martin had to walk single-file, and claustrophobia caused them to sweat. The atmosphere grew cold and damp, and Varian could hear water flowing somewhere beyond the rock.

"So," Varian started talking after a protracted period of uncomfortable quiet. "How come you didn't confiscate my weapon?"

"There's no point down here," Martin answered. "We're in too close quarters for you to try anything with it, but I'll be sure to relieve you of it once we see the light of day."

"Oh, so it's not just a helmet rack, then."

"And you're not just a little rat-faced weasel."

Varian feigned surprise. "Martin, we're giving each other compliments, now? What's next, are you going to ask me to dinner?"

"I can still gag you, kid. By the way, what happened to the racoon? Did he get sick and tired of you?"

"Well, he would have come, but he hates guards. I can't imagine why."

They went on, trading banter with each other until the tunnel expanded to normal size once more. Varian checked his watch again when Martin gruffly announced that he needed to find a corner. "You don't need anything to wipe with, do you?" Varian jabbed as Martin disappeared.

"I could use your face," Martin replied from the dark.

Varian actually chuckled, but the dry wit in his throat died as he checked the time; they were three hours in, now. That meant it would be dusk outside. It would be almost midnight by the time they made it to the surface, and that was if they didn't take any more pit stops and picked up the pace. That was also not taking into account any detours the tunnel might bring; in which case they might not make it out until mid-morning the next day. He made no mention of this to Martin as they continued, the dim light of the agent in his hand granting little comfort as the minutes wore on.

"I don't suppose I'm privy to knowing what exactly it is you have planned once you make it out of here," Martin said.

"It's a long story."

Martin sighed. "Kid, I've literally got nothing but time right now. You're going to have to come up with a better excuse."

"Fine," Varian conceded. "Here's a better excuse. You're not privy."

"Touché. You got any water?"

"Yeah, here." He heard Martin pop the canteen open and take a few sniffs of the contents. "Oh, for heaven's sake, you really think I'd poison my own water?"

"It might not be water that you're handing me," Martin retorted. Varian heard him take a few more sniffs before taking a tentative test swig.

"Hey, don't drink the whole thing," Varian told him after a minute. "I have enough for only one."

"I knew that," Martin grumbled, passing it back over with an embarrassed look.

As Varian drank, his thoughts wandered to what had happened that morning. Could the Celestial have known this would happen? She might have known about Caius, but there was no way she could have predicted this situation. Deep in the dark with only a guard for company, Varian's thoughts felt lonely and aimless. He started to miss Rudiger's wobbling weight on his shoulder, the tug of Shay's nervous fingertips on his elbow. The light of day was hours behind him, and for once, there was no moon to light his way.

 _It's just the dark getting to you,_ Varian chided himself. _You'll see them again. I'm sure of it._

"Hey, look!" Martin's voice cut into his mind. "There's light up ahead!"

"What?" It couldn't be that soon. Varian looked up, peering with dark lashes through the dim. Sure enough, light painted the rough-hewn walls further up the tunnel, shimmering and blue-green. "Wait," he grabbed Martin's arm before the guard moved forward any further. "That's not daylight."

Martin paused, frowning. "Who cares what kind of light it is? It's the first real light we've seen in hours now."

"Okay, fine," Varian hissed, "charge ahead. See what I do when you get yourself killed for not listening to me."

"Well, what do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Varian answered tersely. "That's the point."

Martin folded his arms. "That's our only way forward, alchemist. What do you suggest we do?"

"Move forward slowly," Varian said in a low voice.

"Fine," Martin conceded after a moment. "But you're going first."

Varian said nothing as he took his bow and placed an arrow over the drawstring. He took careful steps across the stone, treading cautiously as he kept his eyes peeled for a trap. He placed his weight lightly as he rounded the corner; Martin mimicked his footwork, the guard's hand grasped tightly on the hilt of his standard-issue soldier's blade.

As Varian rounded the corner, a door came into view, solid stone and bleeding light from beyond. There was no handle, like the doors to Haderon's tomb, and as Varian looked, he saw the same symbol. He reached to trace the three lines with his fingertip, and the mark blossomed with blue light.

"How did you do that?" Martin asked from behind as the stone door slowly opened inward. "And what's up with your hair?"

Varian didn't answer; the sight that unfolded before him made him stop in his tracks, his jaw lowering as his eyes widened into blue saucers. "Oh, my."

"What? What is it?" Martin squeezed around, straining to see. He gaped openly at the polished corridor before them, the path expanding into polished limestone. Water pooled in gentle streams down obsidian walls, raining in rivulets down into deep aqueducts. Azure light filtered in flickering sheets from the depths of the clear waters; Varian couldn't identify the source, but it looked very similar to the light from the Celestial's chamber. "What is this?" Martin continued, straining around Varian's shoulder.

But Varian refused to budge. "Hold on," he put his arm out, stopping the guard from moving forward any further. "We don't know what's down here, okay? Something like this doesn't mean we get to relax."

Martin gave Varian's shoulder a gruff push; to his credit, Varian still didn't move. "It's not like there's any other way forward, is there?"

Varian blew out his cheeks. "I'll take point," he grumbled, testing his bowstring. "Not like you can trust me to watch your back, right?"

Silence fell between them as Varian led the way down the underground corridor. He glanced upward and saw that the ceiling was so high that it dipped into darkness above; a reverse chasm with a sea of watery light beneath them. The corridor continued to expand into an entire hall, flanked with towering columns and sconces filled with orange fire. The limestone ground melded into a monochrome mosaic, stretching out in a field of intricate imagery. Varian hesitated to walk on it, trying to make out the scene that unfurled before him. It looked very surreal, with lighter patches illustrating orbs of light and trailing comet tails.

"This looks like some kind of sky map," Varian concluded slowly, placing his feet carefully as he continued to sweep for traps. "I don't have many star charts at home, astronomy isn't exactly my forte."

"Hey, there's more on the walls," he heard Martin call from the left side of the hall.

But Varian was too lost in thought. "Let's see, that's…that's ursa minor, which means Cassiopeia is there. Orion…"

"Hey, kid, did you hear me?"

Varian raised a gloved hand and cupped his chin with it. "No, that's not it," he continued to mutter. "There's something…" He snapped his fingers. "Something's missing, that's it!" He strode purposefully now, towards the vacant spot in the mosaic where a cluster of stars was absent. "There should be one right here, but I – I can't remember which one it is."

"Varian!"

The alchemist jumped at the sound of his name, breaking out of his thoughtful stupor. Reluctantly, he jogged over towards the guard's voice. "What is it?" he asked when he reached Martin's shoulder.

Martin pointed up at the wall before them; the light from the water illuminated a limestone frieze, the relief carved so deeply that Varian could almost see the depicted figures in the round. It was a battle, fierce and bloody, with soldiers falling by the sword and arrow in droves. To Varian, it seemed very familiar; it took him a moment of studying to realize why.

"I don't know this battle," Martin admitted, breaking the silence with a wary voice. "I'm not even sure this is Coronan."

"It's not," Varian answered gravely. "I've seen something like this before." He reached a finger out to indicate one soldier's shield. "That symbol is Greek. And this…" He stepped closer towards the focal figure – with his billowing robes and hooded cloak, it could only be Haderon, the ancient necromancer. Varian looked closer and saw that the braided rope around Haderon's waist was tied with a Celtic knot. "Haderon wasn't from Corona," Varian spoke aloud. "He came from the isles, like…like the Crimson Caster."

Martin frowned. "The Crimson who? Who's Haderon?"

Varian shook his head. He didn't want to answer Martin because he was trying to find answers of his own. "Why does Corona have records of a battle between the Greeks and the Celts?" Obviously, it had something to do with Haderon, but what sort of involvement did Haderon have with Corona in the first place?

"Well, the Celts did fight the Greeks at one point," Martin explained.

Varian paused to fix the guard with wide eyes.

"What?" Martin donned an indignant expression. "I was educated! It's important to study battle history if you're going to be a soldier."

Varian's stare turned into a frown; he would never admit it out loud, but he hated it when someone else in the room knew more about something than he did. "Well then, educate me."

"I…well…" Martin's face turned red. "It wasn't unheard of for the Greeks to have fought the Celts, that's all."

Varian smirked. "That doesn't tell me why Haderon came to Corona."

Martin clapped his hands to his sides. "I don't know who Haderon is."

"Him," Varian jutted a finger at the mage in the center. "He was a necromancer, a powerful sorcerer who raised an army of the dead to fight early Corona." He shook his head again. "But this battle between the Greeks and the Celts must have happened over a thousand years ago."

"More like fifteen hundred years," Martin corrected. "Maybe even two thousand."

Varian coughed. "Either date places it way too far back in history for Haderon to have possibly been involved in both battles."

"You said he was a necromancer, right?" Martin folded his arms. "Maybe he raised himself from the dead."

"You can't raise yourself from the dead!" Varian exclaimed. He held up a hand before Martin could counter. "But you can prolong your life."

Martin snorted. "No, you can't."

"Yes," Varian's eyes widened. He took a few steps back from the frieze, looking upwards at the top of the piece. "Yes, you can, if you have one thing." He saw the Sun's rays etched into the limestone sky. He could feel the frail texture of the petals when he'd crushed them to dust in his desperate hand. _Cellular regeneration_ , Shay had said. "It was said that the witch who kidnapped the princess was using Rapunzel's power to keep herself young…to perpetuate her life. What if she wasn't the first?"

"You're cracked," Martin stated flatly.

"Greek mythology tried to justify different natural phenomena," Varian continued. "Changes in weather, the landscape, political affairs…The Celts did the same for psychological maladies, questions about life and death. What if magic was all part of it? What if Haderon was one of the last great mages before the culmination of the western world? He must have recognized what was happening to the world around him, how magic users were dying off one by one. He was desperate, he tried to find a way to preserve his trade, to prolong his life long enough to pass on the knowledge of his art."

"So why not just write it all down?"

"No, that would have been too dangerous." Varian knew that from his own experience. "He must have searched the entire eastern world, maybe even Asia, to find the source of magic strong enough to fight back the grave. When that yielded no results, he came here, to Corona. And once he found it, the key to stopping death…he was willing to raise an army of the dead to keep it."

Martin swallowed audibly, loosing a strap on his breastplate to he could breathe better. "Look, I have no idea what you're talking about, but even if any of it is true, then what could have stopped an army of the dead?"

Varian looked to the other side of the frieze. Framed between two mountains, shrouded by a great white tree, was a moon in eclipse, crowned with a blinding violet corona. A cluster of six stars hovered in the sky over the moon's dark circle, painted blood-red – the missing constellation from the mosaic.

"Pleiades," Varian breathed.

"Like the constellation?"

Varian nodded. "The stars gave birth to a myth about seven sisters who were hunted and chased down by Orion, the hunter. Hunted, like the mages."

Martin looked increasingly anxious. "A mage hunt?"

"But there are only six stars," Varian mused. "Why seven sisters, but only six stars?"

"Varian," Martin tugged at his cotton collar. "I think I just saw something move."

"What happened to the seventh star?"

"Varian!" The sound of hollow leather clattered through the air as Martin unsheathed his sword, aiming the blade into the dark.

Varian snapped out of it, whipping around to see.

An entire troop of armored skeletons emerged from the depths of the hall, rusted weapons trained with an unnatural steadiness in their direction. The sight of the undead sent horrified chills down Varian's spine, and he drew his arrow so quickly that his scarred shoulder popped.

This time, the skeletons spoke. _Only those chosen by the Celestials may enter here._ Lights glowed in hot embers inside the empty skulls, reflecting eerily along the tips of their blades. _Those who are unworthy must perish. The secret will survive by blood!_

"Not again," Varian moaned.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: In the Dark

"Yaeger!" The Captain stood up from his chair, his weary face brightening as his best scout lieutenant entered the study. He barely noticed Yaeger's haggard appearance, with his helmet tucked under his arm and his hair dark with sweat across his brow. "It's about time, young man," he exclaimed as he reached to clasp the soldier's arm. "I was worried for a moment that the bears had gotten to your entire troop."

Yaeger tried to force a smile, but it didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "Not exactly a bear, sir," he said quietly. "But we did return with…" He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words.

The Captain immediately sobered, and he tugged his own helmet off his head. "Did you find the boy?" he said in barely more than a whisper.

"No," Yaeger answered, and the Captain's hopeful look dissipated. "But there's someone we picked up outside the forest, someone who claims to know how we can track the alchemist down."

The captain frowned, his mustache bristling. "Who?"

Yaeger straightened his tired back. He seemed reluctant to answer; not out of fear, but embarrassment. "He says his name is Caius, sir."

The name caused the Captain to stiffen, and his eyes flashed open wide with shock. "What did you say?"

"Caius." Yeager's tone changed to criticism. "He claims to be some kind of witch hunter, but I'm not sure if that's all just a load of –"

"He's here?" The Captain cut him off with a hiss as sweat started to visibly bead near his temples. "You brought him to the capital?"

"Well, yes," Yaeger answered firmly, his expression a mixture of confusion and alarm as he delivered a brief report. The Captain listened intently, the muscles tight in his neck as he learned of the unorthodox path his scouts had been forced to take with this strange wanderer. "He's been a consultant of sorts since…You know him, sir?"

The Captain didn't answer at first. He felt his way back around the desk and sat down in the chair, wiping a trembling hand over his balding head. "I know of him," he clarified after a moment. "It would be dangerous for me to tell you more."

"Understood, sir," Yaeger said without hesitation. "He wishes to speak to you about our current assignment. My men and I can detain him if you wish. As always, I am pledged to obey your orders. What would you have me do?"

"No," the Captain said after another pause. "No. If he wishes to speak…Bring him to me."

"At once, Captain." Yaeger saluted and turned on his heel. The instant he left, the Captain scrambled to the lockbox and opened it to retrieve one of the many report records, sifting through a faded black leather journal until he found the name. Caius, the former captain's brother. Good soldier, if a bit intense. Assumed dead four years after the witch hunt, fifteen years ago. No word on a burial or grave site, so it was possible. The captain closed the book and quickly locked the box once more, just in time to hear Yaeger's return knock on the door. "I have him, sir," the lieutenant reported from the other side.

"Very good," the Captain straightened, donning his helmet once more. "Escort him in."

Caius entered the room slowly, deliberately, as if he had been given no orders but his own. His muscular frame seemed to fill half the room, imposing and dark as the Captain's lamplight flickered. The blind eye in his head gazed downward, the milky orb piercing the Captain's sight like a hot lance. Yaeger frowned skeptically as the witch hunter stopped before the Captain's desk with his broad shoulders set and his hands held slack at his sides.

"Leave us, Yaeger," the Captain said. "Keep watch outside."

Yaeger immediately opened his mouth to protest. He stopped himself before he could, sharing a silent, urgent stare with his commanding officer. The Captain gave a single nod, and the lieutenant deflated. "Yes, sir," he said, unable to mask the reluctance in his voice as he turned and closed the door behind him, the latch closing shut with a staccato click.

The Captain stood resolute behind his desk, looking Caius up and down. "I'm afraid I don't have a seat for you," he began coolly, his tone conveying a practiced confidence as he deliberately met the witch hunter's eyes. "Though it seems you don't necessarily want one. I've dealt with the dead before, a tavern haunting. Something about the original owner dying of shame after trying to sing in public. Personally, I don't really believe in the paranormal, but, then again, you don't seem to be as dead as the records say. I'd like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to consult with my scouts. I was told you've been very helpful."

"Really, Captain, must we deal with the pleasantries?" Caius said in his gravelly voice; he sounded almost bored. "I assume the lieutenant has yet to inform you of your scouts' findings outside the Haderon Forest?" He continued before the Captain could answer, "The son of Quirin intends to resurrect his father with the aid of a witch."

The Captain's right eye twitched once, but he managed to keep a level tone as he spoke. "You are referring to the Crimson Caster?"

"Ah," Caius' brow lifted, and a flicker of genuine surprise lit his working eye. "You are more informed than I suspected. In a way, I speak of her, but not in the way that you think. The boy's intent was to employ the Crimson Caster, but he has enlisted the aid of her daughter instead."

A daughter? The king had made no mention of any offspring. The Captain's composure threatened to crumble as he fought to hide his ignorance. "How do you know all of this?"

"It is my trade."

The Captain frowned at the insufficient reply. "Witches are not my concern. My orders are to capture the boy."

Caius' lip curled into a bitter sneer. "An hour ago, he and the witch were here, at the capital."

"Here?!" The Captain's good form snapped, and his emotions sprang out into view. "For Heaven's sake, we need to initiate a citywide lockdown!"

"It's far too late for that," Caius scoffed. "By now, he'll have already obtained what he was looking for. The mage he was travelling with has headed south – they'll have passed through the gates before your guards can catch them."

"Then we must send out a perimeter on horseback!" The Captain fled to the door, throwing it open wide. "Yaeger!" He barked. "Tell Torell to assemble his men. I need them spread out in a south sweep, past the island!"

"Sir!" Guard Stan swung around the corner, sprinting down the corridor. Stan's mustache was askew, and his helmet sat crooked on his head. "I mean, sirs!" he continued breathlessly. "We've just received a report from the city patrol. One of our men is missing!"

The Captain donned a stone-hard expression. "Name?"

"Martin, sir. The young one."

The Captain's forehead creased. "That's the one who was demoted from prison duty, from the night the boy escaped."

Yaeger's head swiveled in alarm. "Captain, you don't think…"

"No," the Captain sneered. "Not one of my men. Absolutely not. I don't recruit traitors. Go give Torell my orders –"

"Don't."

The spoken word stopped the Captain mid-sentence; Caius stood in the doorway, his frame filling the space so much that he blocked the view of the study. "Excuse me?" the Captain said through gritted teeth.

Caius folded his arms. "You really think I chose to cooperate with your men just to tell you information you could easily have found out for yourself? A south perimeter isn't what you need. A large scale move like that is a waste of time, resources, and taxpayers' money."

Enraged, Yaeger advanced. "Why, you –!"

But the Captain grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He glared into the witch hunter's face. "Why did you come, then?"

"To offer my exclusive services as the only witch hunter left in Corona." Caius stepped forward, towering over the others, his blind eye twitching back and forth under his narrow, greying eyebrows. "The situation requires a specialist. Your target is leaving a trail only I can follow."

"Is that so?"

Caius blinked once. "You will never catch that boy without me. He's young, he's fast, and, quite frankly, he boasts an intelligence that rivals Demanitus himself. But there is one mistake he has made. He wishes to use magic." A small smile creased his lips. "I know how to kill magic." His blind eye swiveled to meet Yaeger's vengeful grimace. "Can your scouts claim the same?"

"That's enough," the Captain barked. Then he sighed through his nose, weighing his options. After a moment, he sighed again, then snapped his fingers at Stan. "Find this man a bunk." He turned to Yaeger. "I want you to write me a full report. You can dismiss your men, send them home for the night if they have one."

Yaeger couldn't hold it in. "But, sir!" he exclaimed, red-faced and appalled.

"You have your orders, lieutenant!"

"I…yes…sir." Yaeger saluted stiffly, flashing Caius one final glare, before forcing himself to march down the corridor. Stan followed, eyeing Caius warily as he departed for the barracks.

The Captain turned to face Caius once more. "You're no stranger to the chain of command, witch hunter. This is my game, my orders. Understood?"

Caius nodded once. "Of course. Consider my services enlisted, Captain. In the morning, we shall begin."

* * *

"How many of these things are there?!" Martin cried out. His helmet had been knocked off, his pale hair frazzled and sticking out at every angle. Instinctively, he stabbed into a skeleton's armor, his sword biting through the brittle metal to where the heart should have been. The skeleton continued to swing at him, forcing the young guard to duck and lose his grip. Unarmed, he panicked for an instant, then jumped when Varian slammed his slender frame into the skeleton from the left, crashing it into the wall.

"Enough to kill us," Varian snapped back as he shot across the hall at another of the undead, his father's bowstring snapping past his flushed cheek. There was an explosion as the chemically-loaded arrow cleaved the skeleton's shinbone in half, the ensuing blast sending a few others flying into piles of bone and rotting sinew across the blue-lit mosaic floor. Varian knew they couldn't do this forever; desperate, he thought of an idea. "Here!" He nearly ripped the buckle off Spellbane's strap as he heaved the sword in Martin's direction. "That sword dispels magic, it might help us get out of here!"

Martin caught the blade and stared in alarm at it. "My training's in arming swords, not claymores!"

One skeleton drew too close to Varian, and he swung his bow in a wide arc to knock it off-balance. "It's not a claymore, it's a broadsword!" he yelled.

Martin strapped the sword to his back. "Well, if you know so much about it, why don't you use it?!"

"Don't you think I would be if I knew how?!" Varian kicked and shot again. "My father wasn't a swordsman, he - well, actually, he was, but - never mind, the point is, I don't know how!"

Martin growled between his teeth and drew the sword out into the open; the runes glowed like embers in the presence of the undead. "Whoa," Martin marveled for an instant before charging forward. The blade was surprisingly light, and he was easily able to slice down upon a nearby skeleton like a hot knife through butter. Dusty marrow spilled out from the strike, and white fire bloomed up the blade's edge, causing Martin to cringe. "How do we get out of here?!"

Varian wrenched a flare serum out of his bag. "Cover me!" His back slammed into Martin's as his fingers went to work, hastily tying the serum to his next arrow. Martin continued to swing, the blade's anti-magic keeping the undead at bay. Varian nearly dropped his handiwork before he managed to finish, turning to face the open hall. "Shield your eyes," he ordered, yanking his goggles over his sweaty face.

"Are you insane?!"

"Just do it!" Varian shrieked.

Martin mashed a gauntlet over his eyes, and he heard the arrow shaft snap in half against a pillar on the other side of the hall. Hot light bled through his eyelashes, and a dry, hissing noise emanated through the air as the skeletons shrank back against the brightness.

"Come on!" Varian tugged Martin down the opposite direction, further down the hall and into the dark. Their hasty footsteps echoed eerily as the hall expanded into a wide chamber, and they lurched to a stop as a long, narrow bridge spanned a wide, deep canal. The water bubbled and swirled as Varian led the way towards the mouth of the bridge, yanking his goggles off his eyes to see. "Let's go," he encouraged, and Martin stayed close on his heels as they sprinted across.

They made it halfway before the stone beneath their feet started to crumble. Varian wasn't sure what caused it; whether it was something that triggered as they'd tried to cross, or if it was Spellbane's doing, it didn't matter as his footsteps threatened to plunge into the brink.

Varian heard Martin fall before he saw him; he lurched forward with the last purchase he had, landing flat on his stomach on the other side of the canal. He lurched around and saw Martin floundering in the water, struggling to stay afloat. "Martin!" He reached down, but the guard was being carried too quickly downstream. "Get your armor off!"

Martin disappeared under the current for thirty bone-chilling seconds before reemerging almost twenty-five meters away, gasping and spluttering. Varian managed to narrowly dodge arrow fire from the opposite side as the skeletons continued to target them. "I'm coming!" Varian whipped out his hand-built cord, searching for something to tie it to. "Come on, come _on_ , there's got to be something!" The walls were smooth and endless, no pillars to loop around, not even a chink in the ground to hammer into.

"Varian!" Martin wailed, genuine terror in his voice. "I can't reach the edge!"

Helpless, Varian threw his cord on the ground, screaming through his teeth in frustration. The skeletons were still trying to shoot them down, arrows whizzing too close for comfort. He couldn't deal with the danger of being shot and the stress of saving Martin at the same time. Instinct took over, and he felt his arm launch out in the direction of the far side. He heard a voice in the back of his mind, whispering and fierce; it was Luna's voice, hot with anger, but he couldn't understand the words. Every muscle in his chest tightened when he realized what he was doing, and he watched as a cluster of jagged, black rocks broke through the tiled floor, sparking in rivulets of white and blue. The skeletons scattered, bones clattering across the ground. Varian shook off a sudden burst of fatigue, forcing himself towards the edge of the canal as he threw his arm down. He braced himself against the cold stone, waiting for Martin to grab on, praying through his teeth that the soldier wasn't already gone. The guard emerged from the dark waters and managed to clasp Varian's fingers, his wet grip almost slipping out of reach. Martin hastily reached with his other hand, nearly dragging Varian down into the water with him. Varian strained, his arm completely bent outwards as Martin struggled to pull himself up. Martin had listened; his armor was gone, his thin tunic sticking to every inch of his skin as he clambered up out of the canal.

Varian didn't give the guard a single second to breathe. "Move it!" he barked, shoving Martin down the opposite way. "There's an exit down by the bridge, go!" His bow back in hand, he tried to fire at the remaining undead, but his arm was too weak to fully draw. Using the Celestial's power had taken too much out of him, and he barely managed to follow Martin out of harm's way.

The cold darkness of the narrow corridor greeted them with open arms, and both young men collapsed into it, panting and weak. Martin shivered on the ground, curling into a tight ball, his brown eyes bloodshot and shell-shocked with fear.

Since he wasn't soaking wet, having encountered the undead before, Varian managed to recover first. He dragged himself up the wall, shaking. "Well," he said huskily, "at least we made it across." He looked down at Martin and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Spellbane still strapped across his back. He knelt and reached to unbuckle the strap, taking back the weapon. "Come on," he told the guard, taking his arm. "You'll get hypothermia if we stay here. I know you're in shock, but we have to keep moving. I think we have about six miles left."

Martin didn't say anything, but he managed to nod. He did his best to bring himself to his feet; Varian did his best to support him, dragging him slowly down the corridor. Blue torches lit themselves as they passed by, flickering flames dancing eerily against the frigid stone.

"You…you saved my life," Martin wheezed.

Varian said nothing. They continued onward, and he felt a twinge of relief as the ground beneath him began to slope slowly upward.

"Your hair was glowing again. But, like, all of it this time."

Varian still said nothing.

"I lost a boot," Martin remarked through chattering teeth.

"It's okay," Varian muttered. "We'll get you a new one."

"These are my father's boots."

Varian felt his heart clench in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's gonna kill me when he finds out."

Varian chuckled under his breath. "I won't tell if you don't."

Martin coughed out a wet laugh. "So, you think maybe now I'm at least a _little_ privy to what you have planned?"

The question hung in the air for a while as Varian mulled it over. "We're going to Mount Saison to meet up with a friend," he finally answered.

"I already knew tha – wait, what friend? You have friends?"

"I…" Varian exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yes. I have a friend. And if she's not there…"

No. She had to be there. If anything had happened...

She had to be.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four: Disobedience

King Frederic entered his bedchamber quietly, closing the door slowly behind him. His face was a pale, gaunt mask, his brown eyes glazed over with fatigue, and his arms hung limply at his sides as he leaned for a moment against the wall.

"Fred?" Arianna's voice echoed around the suite corner. She emerged with a brush in her hair, running the boar bristles through her chestnut locks. Frederic still couldn't believe how beautiful she was; in twenty years, she hadn't aged a day. She must have noticed how he looked, because the brush paused in her hand, and her brow furrowed with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Frederic didn't answer; he didn't have to.

Arianna crossed to a nearby table and set her brush down. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The king managed a small chuckle, and he wiped a tired hand down his face. "Maybe I have."

Arianna took his hand in hers and led him to a chair. "Tell me what happened," she said as she started unlacing his boots for him.

He sighed, long and slow. "It's about our search…for the boy. I was just given a report from our scouts."

Arianna shot him an alarmed look. "Have they found him? Is he alright?"

Frederic's eyebrows rose almost to where his crown usually sat.

"Well, I…I-I don't know why I ask, it's just…" She tugged one of his boots off and set it aside with a thump on the marble floor. "That boy is many things. Just because he nearly killed me out of some manic episode doesn't mean I want him dead, that's all. You do have the bounty listed as 'alive', don't you?"

"Yes, dear," Frederic answered, a note of amusement in his weary voice. Another thing about his wife to amaze him – there seemed to be no depth to her kindness. "We will bring him in alive. And no, we haven't found him yet."

His wife nodded, her beautiful mouth pursed in a cute frown. "Do we know what he's up to, then?" She removed his other boot and held it demonstratively. "I'm waiting for the other one to drop."

Arianna's joke seemed to have little effect; the crinkle in Frederic's eyes winked once. "Unfortunately, we do." He sat forward. "That's where the ghost comes in. You remember what happened when…the first year, when Rapunzel was gone."

Arianna sobered, and her gaze fell into her lap like a stone. "Yes," she whispered. "I do."

"One of the hunters survived. Caius, Cain's brother."

"He's here?"

Frederic nodded. "And he's convinced Quirin's boy is working with a witch."

The skin in Arianna's hands became translucent. "You don't think he means…It can't be _her_. I thought she was dead."

"We all thought she was dead," Frederic agreed. "But then, we also thought she was the one that had taken our daughter. I was wrong, then." He sat back, and the clouds in his eyes dissipated, burned away by determination. "That's why I can't afford to be wrong this time. We can't afford to make the same mistakes." He gazed down at his shaking fingers. "I have too much blood on my hands, already. If I stain them any more, I'm afraid it can never be washed away."

"Fred." Arianna reached for him, her grasp tight in his. "I've told you before. You can't blame yourself for what happened. There was miscommunication, abuse of authority in the ranks, too much liberty taken by mavericks and glory hounds."

Frederic nodded again, even though he wasn't sure it was true. "I can't change the past. But I _can_ make sure to protect the future. There will _not_ be another hunt."

* * *

The underground tunnel Varian and Martin followed eventually opened up once more to reveal a spiraling staircase, one that seemed to lead overhead for miles. Varian lost track of how many times they had to stop to catch their breaths as they'd climbed. To his credit, Martin didn't complain, though Varian figured it was because the guard was too exhausted to whine. Instead, the guard seemed content to tally each blue torch they passed under his breath, occupying his mind with numbers instead troubles. Varian himself was worn to the bone, but he knew he couldn't quit. Every time they took a break, he was always the first back up on his feet, dragging Martin's arm over his shoulders once more. The thought of seeing daylight fueled him, encouraging each step he took up the limestone steps.

After what seemed like a hundred-story climb, the stairway eventually opened onto a railed landing. A double-door blocked the way, similar to the one Varian had opened at the entrance to the chamber. He did the same as before, placing his hand to the cold stone. A bright flash of magic, and the door opened to reveal another tunnel.

Martin couldn't hold back a moan at the sight of it. "Another one?"

"Yeah," Varian felt irritated himself. "But it's got to be the last one. Come on, we're almost…"

He stopped when he saw something up ahead. The torches ahead were dim enough that he couldn't tell what it was at first, and a burst of fear set him on edge. If it was another threat, he wasn't sure how they were going to get past it; Varian himself might be able to sneak around whatever it was, but there would be no hope for Martin. After saving his life, Varian couldn't just abandon the guard now. As if on cue, he felt Martin cringe backward, his hand threatening to cripple Varian's scarred shoulder.

"Wha-what is that?" he stammered. "Tell me that's not something bad."

Varian peered through the dark gloom, equipped with a vial of acid in his numb hand. Then he gasped with surprise, and his grip slackened. Joy blossomed in his breast, spreading warmth and energy through his entire being.

It was a glowing, red thread of light.

As it drew closer, Varian reached his hand out to it, beckoning as if to a frightened animal. "Shay." The thread slowly wound itself around his palm, and he grasped it tightly in his trembling fingers. Concentrating, he tugged once, and blue sparks flooded into a pulse of violet light, shooting down the string in a bright bead. It fled into the dark, disappearing.

"What was that?" Martin hissed. "What is that, what are you doing?"

"Shut up," Varian answered. "Just wait."

They waited. After two minutes, Varian started to worry. After five, Martin sat down on the ground. Varian still stood, praying between his teeth.

Then he felt a tug, a nudge that drew the string taut, forcing his arm forward.

Varian laughed out loud. "Martin, get up, on your feet, come on!" He started to run ahead, his newfound energy propelling him forward at a sprint.

Martin managed to catch up, a look of hope on his pallid face as his strength began to return. "So it's…it's good?" he panted, his pace lopsided with his bare foot.

"It's the best thing ever!" Varian crowed. His fears seemed to melt away, leaving him light and full of hope. "I'll explain when we get there!"

They forged ahead, eagerness sapping the time away into a vortex of excitement and anticipation. Martin gasped out loud as the blue torches eventually gave way to rusty sconces and abandoned mine carts. "Mine carts? We – this must be the –"

"The abandoned quarry at Mount Saison," Varian exclaimed. He laughed again. "We made it!" The thread followed the tracks, still tight around Varian's skin.

"That's great," Martin wheezed, his legs wobbly. Varian reached him before he fell over. "Sorry," the guard apologized. "Just give me a minute."

Varian sighed. "Remind me why I saved you again?"

"I don't know," Martin grumbled as he was helped forward. Cold seat lined his brow, and his entire body shook with fatigue. "But I'm glad you did."

Varian sniffed dismissively. "Just forget about it. I know it won't make a difference."

"For what?"

"You know what," Varian muttered. "I don't suppose that cell has been repaired yet, has it? It had a great view of the west courtyard. Those groundskeepers do great work, don't you think?"

Martin didn't say a word.

After fifteen minutes of winding over emptied marble beds and dusty pickaxes, early morning daylight bloomed before them at last. The sound of rain hushed through the air; the heady smell of wet earth and rotting leaves was almost intoxicating. The glowing thread trailed down into the mouth of the quarry, and Varian saw the simmering smoke of a campfire drifting out behind a pile of grey rubble. With Martin in tow, he followed the thread to it, calling Shay's name.

She darted out from behind the rocks, her mismatched eyes wide and unblinking. Her black hair was damp and disheveled, and her clothes were stained dark with mud. Her cloak was missing, and her face was streaked with tears. Her cheeks flushed with relief when Varian came into view, and she started to cry again as the dismissed the glowing thread from her raw fingertips.

Varian couldn't stop smiling. "Hey," he greeted, his voice thick and hoarse with emotion.

Shay didn't say anything; she was too busy staring at Martin, her gaze burning with alarm.

"Is this the friend you were talking about?" Martin slurred.

"Shay, come help me with him," Varian grunted as Martin started to collapse. Shay hesitated before cautiously coming forward, grabbing Martin's other arm. Together, the two dragged the unconscious guard over to the camp, setting him gently down by the flickering embers.

"Who is he?" Shay asked in a trembling voice. "Where did he come from?"

"It's okay," Varian reassured her. "He's just…it's complicated." He helped her drape a blanket over the guard, the wool tucked securely around his limp form. Once they were finished, he reached out and pulled her into a shaky hug. "It's okay," he repeated. "I'm here, now. Everything's alright."

Shay clung to him, her entire body tense. Her breath in his shoulder was warm, but shaky.

Varian released her, holding her at arm's length. "You didn't have any trouble getting here, did you?" he asked has he unbuckled Spellbane from his back. Words began to pour out of him, tumbling so quickly into the air, he hardly took a moment to pause. "I mean, logically, I assume you didn't, because you're here, but I mean, nobody followed you or anything, right? Oh, there's so much I have to tell you – there was this huge chamber down there, like the one we saw at Haderon's tomb, but this one I was able to figure out! Actually, Martin was surprisingly helpful about it, but then more skeletons appeared, like before, and they almost killed us, I think it was a foxhole moment for both of us, but…" He paused; Shay looked pallid, almost like she was going to be sick. "What is it?"

"Varian," Shay whispered. She gulped, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. "We have to get back to my house."

"What?" Varian blinked until his vision was clear. "What are you talking about?"

Shay took him by the hand and led him to the other side of the camp. Killy was there, huddled close to Shay's folded cloak on the ground. Shay knelt, tugging Varian down so he could see. He watched her tuck the fabric aside to reveal a bundle of damp, grey fur, curled into a shivering, shuddering ball, ringed tail tucked between a pair of spasming legs.

Icy dread plummeted into the pit of Varian's stomach. "Rudiger." He reached out to him, searching for the racoon's face. The creature's eyes had rolled back into his head, and a pale green foam coated the corners of his mouth. "What is this?" he asked numbly.

"He's in withdrawal," Shay answered, her tone heavy and filled with remorse. "I was afraid something like this would happen to him, but I didn't think he had taken enough of that serum to –"

Varian snapped his head up, fixing her with a sudden glare. "You knew this would happen?" he hissed.

"I…" Shay's bottom lip started to tremble. "I was going to tell you, but I wasn't…he hadn't shown any symptoms before! And then we were attacked at the river, and then sneaking into the capitol, I…I'm so sorry."

Guilt immediately flooded Varian's chest; he sighed and pounded his forehead twice with his fist. "No," he apologized, sitting back on his heels. "No, this…this is my fault."

Shay reached for him, her fingers wringing his sleeve into agitated wrinkles. "I've tried to do everything I can for him, but all I can do is stall it. He doesn't have much time. We need to take him back to my mother's cabin."

Pain sank into Varian's heart, and he ached with his own helplessness. "We can't."

Shay's eyes swiveled to where Martin lay. "Because of _him_?" she said in a surprisingly low voice.

Varian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "No," he answered hesitantly. "Yes? I was thinking more like it's too far away for us to make it in time. How long has Rudiger been like this?"

"Six hours. If he can keep water down, it'll buy us three days at most."

Varian echoed the sigh. "We can take shifts. We'll need a mount to make it in time. There's a village two hours west. I think I have enough." He flattened out on the quarry floor, too tired to care about how hard the ground was. "I'm fine," he waved a weak hand when Shay started to hover. "I just need five minutes. Just…just five."

Shay returned to Rudiger, tugging the swaddled animal into her lap. She used a corner of fabric to wipe his mouth clean and filled a dropper with water for him to drink. "What's _his_ name?" she asked in that same low voice as she stared through the flames at Martin's scrunched face.

"Martin," Varian mumbled, half-asleep. His stomach growled, but he was too tired to care. He realized he was also sore in a number of places, and a splitting headache had blossomed between his eyes. Using his power before must have drained him more than he'd realized. "He followed me into the tunnel, the one Xavier sent me to."

"He tried to capture you." Shay's voice was barely a whisper through gritted teeth. "He'll try again."

"No," Varian waved his hand again. "Well, not right away, anyway."

Shay exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Well, look at him," Varian rolled his head over to look at the sleeping guard. "He's harmless. He used to guard my cell. He was the only one who talked to me. We kind of just went through a life-or-death experience together. Also, no matter what he says, _I_ saved _his_ life."

Shay said nothing. She refused to acknowledge Martin's presence, focusing instead on the swaddled Rudiger in her lap as she carefully helped him drink from the dropper in her hand. "What happened?"

"There was a tunnel that led to –"

"No," Shay said. "What happened in the chamber? When you were gone for four hours?"

Varian was suddenly wide awake. He sat up, and his headache immediately intensified. As he searched for painkiller in his bag, he told her about the Lunar Celestial. "She said she chose me to stop this so-called demon before it destroys everything. That's why I have to get to the Moonstone. Have you ever heard of it?"

"No," Shay answered. "I've never heard of any of it." She kept Rudiger in the crook of one arm and reached for the book Xavier had given her. "But I wonder if the royal family has. I don't have the agent you used before, but I can smell lemon on some of the pages."

Varian fished for the solution and passed her the vial. "What does it say?" he asked after a moment.

Shay studied the revealed words, chewing her lower lip. Her eyes suddenly widened, and the vial slipped from her fingers, tapping down into the open spine. "I…" She took a deep breath, then seemed to struggle letting it out. "I-I don't understand."

"What is it?" Varian urged.

"The Sundrop. The flower on the cliffs, the one the soldiers found for the queen…my mother's the one who led them to it. She's the reason why the princess is still alive."

Lyra knew? Of course, she did. Despite his fatigue, Varian immediately connected the dots. "That's why they suspected a witch of stealing her away. She was the only one they knew of who would have a reason for it. She knew the Sundrop's power." He slowly laid back down, staring up at the dark quarry ceiling. "That's why the king called for the witch hunters. That's why magic is so hard to find in Corona." Once again, it was all too easy to place the blame at the princess' feet. But then, if the Crimson Caster knew about the Sundrop, did that mean she knew about the Moonstone as well? She definitely knew about the Celestials, which was more than Varian could have said a week ago. "That's why Xavier gave you that book!" He suddenly gasped. "Somewhere in it is the information we need to find that Moonstone and fix all of this!"

"Yes," Shay agreed. "I-I'll keep looking."

Varian heard the hesitation in her voice. "Shay," he told her. "I know you're scared about what you'll find in there, but you're not a child anymore. All the secrets your mother kept from you are what's keeping you from setting her free. The more we can learn, the closer we come to rescuing both our parents."

"I know that," Shay stammered. "But I can't help but wonder if there are some things we shouldn't know. Private things, things not meant for us. You don't understand how upset she got when I asked her about the hunt." She closed the book and set the vial aside. "I already know more than she would ever want me to. I don't want to disobey her any more than I already have."

Varian opened his mouth, shut it, then rolled over. "You know something?" he muttered. "My dad kept secrets from me, too. And after everything that's happened, I've never been able to shake the feeling that if he hadn't, things would be a lot different than they are, right now. I've already fought a few skeletons today. If whatever's in that book can help us put everything right again, I'm not afraid to dig up a few more."

Shay said nothing.

"In a couple hours, wake me up," Varian said. "And don't worry about Martin. I'm not going anywhere…yet."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five: Fever Dreams

Lieutenant Yaeger pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring above his gloved fingers through the cell bars before him. "First, the sinister old man is going on about witches, and now our prisoners are, too? I had to come and hear this for myself. So, Lady Caine, care to reiterate your side of the story? Your men seem convinced enough, but the guards have told me you haven't said a word. That's not very like you, is it?"

The Lady turned her nose up at the scout leader, tossing her dark red hair over her shoulder with a flippant hand. "Spare me the condescending attitude, handsome. While I'm grateful you and your men were so generous as to dress our wounds, my men and I don't appreciate being thrown back in here. If you really want me to talk, I suggest you provide me more reasonable accommodations first."

Yaeger gave a dark chuckle. "I don't think so, _sweetheart._ You're not going anywhere, for a long time. Your little stunt with destroying the Saison Bridge is just the icing on the cake."

Lady Caine's face went hot with anger, and her hands lashed out, latching like vises onto the cold bars. "That wasn't me!" she exclaimed. "It was those two rat-faced girls, the ones who managed to finagle their way into the pretty princess' good graces! They worked together with that puny alchemist boy and that frothy little tart he has following him –"

Yaeger lit up. "So the boy was there!" That bag of supplies they'd found at the scene wasn't just a fluke, then. "Do you know what he was doing? Where was he headed?"

Lady Caine opened her mouth to answer, then stopped herself, narrowing her eyes. "I want better food this time," she haggled. "And a feather pillow. Can I at least get that much?"

"You won't get anything if you won't tell me the truth."

"Fine." The Lady pressed herself closer. "Yes, I saw the boy. He's more brazen than I gave him credit for. Stronger, too. But he's soft now."

"Soft? How so?"

"The Varian I'd heard of wouldn't have so much as batted an eye. He did threaten to kill the queen, didn't he?"

Yaeger blinked once. "That was the report." He hadn't been there; he'd been stationed at the castle. Rumor had it that the king's personal account painted the boy as being desperate, not cold-blooded. But it was all beside the point. "You didn't answer the question."

Lady Caine wound a lock of hair around her spindly finger. "Truth be told, I asked him to join me. You should know, I can be very persuasive when I want to be, especially with men. But for some reason, my irresistible charm didn't work on him. Then he practically had a hernia when I threatened the little monstrosity he had with him."

The lieutenant frowned. "What monstrosity?" He expected her to describe the racoon; the boy had been reported to be particularly attached to the animal he was often seen with.

But the Lady's response surprised him. "I told you, the waifish freak."

Yaeger snapped his fingers at the scribe next to him, making sure he was keeping up with the notes. "Describe her."

"Black hair, pale, looks like she's never had protein in her life. Didn't say a word, but she didn't have to when she started attacking us with her magic."

The blood in Yaeger's veins froze. "Magic?"

"Yes, magic! Are you deaf? She has a red eye in her head, all glowy and stuff." Lady Caine extracted her finger from her hair and moved her hand to her neck, where the shadow of Shay's magic cord still burned her skin. "I don't remember much after that, but she's the one who nearly killed us, as if having the alchemist spurn my good graces wasn't insulting –"

"Enough," Yaeger interrupted her. "We're done here. Thank you for your cooperation." He snatched the scribe's parchment and started walking down the dungeon hall, his footsteps echoing eerily through the cells.

"Hey!" Lady Caine screeched. "What about my demands?!"

"For heaven's sake," Yaeger sighed sharply. He pointed authoritatively at the nearest prison guard. "You, there. Make sure the Lady gets three squares a day. And fetch her a feather pillow. Tell her it's a present from her favorite lieutenant."

 _Now, to have a word with the Captain._ Surely he would know what to do about this.

* * *

"Varian! Varian, wake up!"

Varian snapped awake, blinking blearily as he instinctively sucked in a chestful of air. "Nh-huh?" He yawned, sitting up from where he'd fallen asleep by the campfire. It was evening, and the cold rain had finally given way to a rosy sunset. Drops of dripping rainwater echoed from the mouth of the quarry, and the smell of cooked potatoes wafted to his nose. His freckled face blanched when he realized he had fallen asleep during his shift with Rudiger. He shot a glance down to see; the racoon was still here, curled up and taking shallow breaths. He felt the creature's nose with the back of his hand and winced at how warm it was.

He finally directed his attention to Martin, who was crouching next to him with an alarmed expression on his face. "What is it?" Varian asked. "Why do you look like you just threw up?"

Martin shuddered, his brown eyes cringing into narrow slits. "Because the girl turned me into a beetle, that's why."

"Come again?"

"The girl. Turned me. Into a cockroach!" Martin spat as he sat fully down, his blonde hair slick with sweat from his brow. "I woke up, and the world was literally a hundred times bigger, and she just glared down at me and said something like, 'roasted potatoes can't stop me', and then she left, and a spooky clown appeared with a basket of moldy cheese!"

"Well, clearly you were dreami – 'left?' What do you mean, 'left'?!" Varian sprang to his feet, holding Rudiger close as he searched frantically about with his eyes. Sure enough, Shay was nowhere to be seen. He stood there, spluttering for a few seconds, before turning back to Martin. "Why did she leave?!"

"You tell me!" Martin folded his shaking arms. "I should have known you'd spend your time with crazy people."

Varian's gaze darted to his bag. "Did she take anything?" He pointed to it. "Check and see if my silver's still in there. It's a velvet pouch."

Martin searched, then shook his head. "Looks like she robbed you."

"She didn't rob me," Varian insisted. "She must have gone to the nearest town to buy us a horse." He made a frustrated growl. "Stupid, why would she go on her own?" Of course, he knew the answer; she didn't want to risk him being found. Having Martin here must have set her off, especially after their time at the capitol.

"I don't know," Martin answered stiffly. "All I know is that I don't miss her. Seriously, she turned me into a –"

"I heard you the first time!" Varian snapped. He ground his teeth, struggling to find an answer to this new problem. After a few moments, he still couldn't think of one. "Okay, look," he sighed. "I can't leave because Rudiger needs me, and you can't leave because that means you'd be letting me go."

Martin shrugged. "So, what, we just wait here?"

Varian hated to say it. "Yes," he grimaced.

Martin sighed as he stood. "Well, you said it yourself. You can't go anywhere as long as the racoon is ill. So, I'm at least going to get us some more water. I might wash up while I'm at it, so…just sit tight, I guess." He started trudging towards the mouth of the quarry and stopped. "Don't worry," he said over his shoulder. "I'm not going to report anything just yet, not that there's really anyone in authority out here. To be honest, I don't think anyone would believe me, anyway. But when I come back, I'm going to need some answers."

Varian chewed his lip as Martin disappeared. How much could he tell the guard without making his case sound worse? _Oh, yes, I just broke out of prison so that I could look for a way to save my father and figured following this cryptic map would be a smart answer, so I entered a crypt full of undead and inadvertently caught the attention of a supernatural manifestation that's chosen me to be its champion. Oh, and I might know something about the destruction of the Saison Bridge. No big deal._

It was a huge deal.

Deep down inside, Varian knew Martin meant no harm – at least, not intentionally. For good or bad, they were in this together, now, which meant some trust needed to be demonstrated. Martin had already extended some trust of his own by leaving Varian in solitude for a handful of minutes. Before they'd entered that underground chamber, the Martin Varian knew wouldn't have let him out of his sight for one second. Surely that meant something, didn't it?

But what about Shay? Obviously, there hadn't been any magic or moldy-cheese clowns involved, which meant Martin must have seen her leave in the middle of a fever dream. Varian didn't have to be psychic to know that Shay didn't find Martin trustworthy; she'd made that clear enough before. Of course, none of that would matter if she had managed to get herself in trouble, out there all alone. Her brash actions had effectively left Varian immobile, left to borrow precious time for Rudiger on his own until she returned. If she came back.

Varian stared down at Rudiger's feverish form. Surely, there was something more he could do. What good was this "gift" the Moon's spirit had given him if he couldn't use it to save his most loyal companion? He had managed to heal Shay before; maybe now, he could do the same.

Carefully, Varian placed Rudiger on the ground. The racoon whimpered once as he was left on the cold quarry floor. Varian stood and extended his hands, summoning the will within himself. He sucked in a deep breath and began the incantation, his voice hoarse with fatigue as the signature notes lilted through the still air.

The instant a spattering of sparks appeared on his fingertips, Varian felt pain slice up his spine in a spearing arc. He cut off the incantation with an agonized cry, and his hands instinctively clapped over his head as dizziness almost overwhelmed him. Ears ringing, he crumpled to his knees, panting as he struggled to recover.

 _You foolish boy!_

Varian saw movement in the corner of his streaming eyes, and he managed to turn his head to see that a series of black rocks had erupted around him, shattering the rock near his feet. Reflected in the rocks' glossy surface was the otherworldly face of Luna, her white gaze burning with apoplectic fury. She looked different…older. Age lines were there, and streaks of grey had started to appear in her night-black hair.

"You–" Varian coughed and he felt something warm run from his nose. He took a trembling swipe and saw blood on his gloved fingertips, causing his stomach to lurch. "I don't understand, why…why?"

 _Because you have already used up almost every drop of power I can give you!_ Luna's voice echoed in his pounding head, adding to the pain that was already there. _My light is waning, and soon I must take my sleep. The incantation you just invoked requires an entire cycle's worth of power. If I hadn't stopped you, the spell would have claimed your life, and you would be dead!_

Varian managed to stand, his legs wobbling beneath him. "Why didn't you tell me this before? What else are you keeping from me?!"

 _You need to –_

"NO!" Varian immediately regretted shouting, as it made every cell in his body hurt. "I'm _done_ with this!" He started listing off with his fingers, "I've been threatened, imprisoned, shot, slapped, extorted, and goodness knows what else to get to where I am right now, and that's not even getting into what my friends have suffered! You chose me, which means you need to understand that this is _my_ game! I'm not some pawn you get to order around! If we're going to be working together, you WILL be honest with me, or you can find someone else to conquer your demons for you!"

Luna's face was stony, her symmetrical lips pursed into a thin line. _Are you quite finished?_

Varian simmered, his expression lowery and grim.

 _Good. I understand that your small, mortal mind cannot fully comprehend the severity of the situation we all face. But despite what you believe, I have listened…and you are correct._

"I'm sorry, what?"

The Celestial's visage winked and became blurry in the stone, almost as if she was trying to hide. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. _I grow tired. The shadows come to claim me soon. Solaris beckons, but his voice is faint._

Varian tried to remember what day of the month it was – it had been almost a week since the harvest moon. "The new moon is eight days from now."

 _Yes._

"What happens, then?"

 _The strength allotted to me will be spent, and so will yours._

"So, the amount of magic I have changes based on which phase you're in?"

 _Yes._

Varian lifted his hands. "Okay, so I'm at half-power. What kind of spell does that equate to?"

Luna's visage sharpened back into view. _Evidently, a spell that does not demand your own life as compensation._

"Evidently," Varian grumbled, kneading his forehead. "You know, all of this would have been nice to know before I had to escape into an ancient chamber full of undead."

 _I have done my best to help you, Varian._

"Oh, we're on a first-name basis, now? Aren't we moving a little fast?"

 _This is not the time for levity, boy. I have placed all my hopes upon you. Do not take it lightly. Until I next awaken, your capacity only lessens from here. You must be patient. In the meantime, please try to not get yourself killed._

"Wait!" Varian exclaimed as Luna began to disappear. "I need to know more about the Moonstone. How much time do I have to find it?"

 _I don't know._ He could barely hear her, now. _We have come too far now for me to see._

Varian felt anxiety crawl up his neck. "But if you –"

"She's coming!" Martin's voice snapped Varian's attention away, and he looked to see the guard reappear at the mouth of the quarry, jogging hurriedly towards him. "She's comi – who are you talking to?"

"I…" Varian looked back to the rocks, but they were gone. His eyes widened, staring at the empty holes in the ground. "Nu-nothing," he answered hesitantly. "No one, just myself." He quickly wiped his face clean with his apron before Martin could see.

Martin frowned as he approached, shaking a full canteen. "Here, water for you. I'm going to go hide now, before she realizes her spell wore off."

Varian turned again as Martin disappeared behind a pile of rubble. Shay trudged her way into view, her petite face crestfallen and smudged with dirt. She noticed Varian was awake, and guilt immediately contorted her expression. Killy leapt out from her side and bounded over to Varian, sniffing affectionately at his ankles before cautiously approaching Rudiger's bundle.

Shay slowly approached and produced Varian's coin bag. She said nothing; she didn't have to. Varian could tell she hadn't spent a thing.

"That was reckless," Varian told her.

She nodded.

"Don't do it again."

Another nod.

Varian placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," he said.

"No, it's not," Shay mumbled bitterly. "I've only wasted our time, being foolish and thinking I could help. When I found a village, I couldn't even bring myself to speak to anyone."

Varian placed his hands on his hips. "Well, feeling sorry isn't going to help, either. If we're going to save Rudiger, we still need a way to make it to your house in time. You're sure there's no other place to find what we need?"

Shay shook her head. "It's an ingredient from the tree in my mother's garden. It's not native to Corona, we won't find another like it."

Varian cursed under his breath. "So, how do we get to it when we only have maybe two days left? If we can't get a ride, I don't know what else we can do."

Shay crossed over to the campfire and reached down for the book Xavier had given her. She smoothed her palm across the cover, chewing her lip. "There's only one other thing I can think of that we can try," she told him. "This book has a great deal of spells, very complicated. One of them is a spell of teleportation. It requires the power of at least three mages to perform, and even the slightest slip-up –"

"– Can have disastrous consequences." Varian said grimly.

"Speaking of consequences," Martin's voice floated to them from around his rubble pile, "are you telling me you don't care that your girlfriend turned me into a cockroach?"

Shay gasped, and her face turned beet-red.

Varian whirled on the pile, his own face burning. "She's not my girlfriend!" he growled.

"What is he talking about?" Shay managed to stammer.

"He had some kind of fever dream," Varian said, loudly enough for Martin to hear. "You should be flattered, he dreamed about you."

Martin darted out into full view, his face flushed with agitation. "It was not a fever dream! She turned me into a roach!"

"I – I did no such thing!" Shay exclaimed, her hands fisting into furious balls at her sides. "Besides, how can I turn you into something you already are?"

"Excuse me?!"

"Yes, you were awake when I left," Shay explained, "I said the potatoes I brought from Xavier's house were done roasting, which you must have heard because you took them off the fire."

"I – I just didn't want them to burn, that's all," Martin retorted.

"How courteous of you," Shay muttered tersely.

"Alright, that's enough," Varian cut in. "If we're going to be working together, we need to at least act like adults about it."

Martin straightened his shirt, stuffing the hem into his trousers. "I'll remind you, kid, according to Coronan law, I'm the only adult here!"

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should act like it instead of picking on girls!"

Martin opened his mouth, then shut it.

Varian felt himself deflate. "Look," he grumbled, "let's all just eat, okay?"

Shay and Martin said nothing. The girl produced two serving plates, the only ones she had, and plated the potatoes for them. Varian offered to eat his share out of the pan, and he watched Shay reluctantly hand Martin a plate. She then crossed over to the opposite side and sat down, and they all ate in uncomfortable silence.

After a few minutes, Martin spoke around a mouthful of starch. "So, how did an alchemist end up dragging a witch into his criminal affairs?"


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six: Consequence

Rapunzel opened her green eyes to the sight of a white void, stretching endlessly out before her in a depthless field. There was light, but she couldn't tell where, and there was ground beneath her bare feet, but only her shadow accompanied her. No sound reached her ears but her own breathing, which froze as she held her breath in shock.

"What is this?" she whispered, tentatively taking a step forward. Her foot landed on the white beneath her, and as she moved forward, she could feel the subtle weight of her golden hair settle on the back of her neck. She took another step forward, her pace falling into an uncertain walk. "Hello!" she called out, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Is anyone here?!"

No one answered, and her voice didn't even seem to echo. As she kept walking, her scenery didn't change; she might as well have been walking in place. She stopped to try and think, but it felt like her brain was full of molasses. _How did I get here? Have I always been here? There's someone…Eugene, right? Yes, where is Eugene? Wasn't I home? Where is home?_

She couldn't remember, for some reason. Her freckled face wrinkled as she frowned. Something about this seemed familiar, like she'd been here before. But she couldn't remember a place like this. Was this a dream? A dream, of course! She just needed to wake up before she started falling, or before something tried to attack her…

The sudden burst of lucidity caused an image to flash before her eyes: at first, she thought it might have been a lost memory, but as she tried to focus on it, she didn't think it was a memory at all. It looked like a forest, blanketed deep with freshly fallen snow. She didn't recognize the forest, but at the same time, the trees looked familiar. She squinted, peering closer, and she could almost feel herself drifting between the branches, like a bird in flight. She found herself floating down a craggy stream, the freezing current bubbling over smooth rocks and underneath unruly tree roots, until she found herself outside a meadow. At the center of the meadow was a modest cabin, something she still didn't recognize. She could sense a warmth from it, though, like the light of a candle flame. She found herself drawn towards the front door, and she reached out a hand to knock on it.

The door opened before her knuckles reached the wood, and a figure stood there, staring directly into Rapunzel's eyes. It was a woman of about thirty, with a head of red hair sprinkled with streaks of grey. She seemed comely, her height was average, and she looked like she ate well enough to be healthy, but dark circles crept like shadows underneath her piercing gaze. Rapunzel noticed the woman's heterochromia immediately, her mismatched eyes almost glowing, one a deep orange and the other a fiery crimson. Her lips were pursed into a tight, grim line, and the muscles of her jaw became tight. In any other circumstance, Rapunzel would have been unsettled by the look, but instead she felt intrigued. She still couldn't remember, but she knew one thing for certain; she knew this woman. Somehow, they had met before.

"Mam?" A small voice echoed from within the cabin. Rapunzel saw movement, and a little girl appeared at the woman's hip. She couldn't have been older than six, and her hair was tied back from her timid face so that Rapunzel could see she had the same orange and red eyes. The girl spoke again, in a language the princess couldn't understand, but it felt like a question.

The woman didn't answer at first. She was still staring directly at Rapunzel, her single red eye simmering as she narrowed her gaze. Now Rapunzel was beginning to worry; could the woman actually see her? Another lucid burst reminded her that this was just a dream…but it didn't feel very much like a dream anymore.

Finally, the woman blinked, and she sighed through her nose. She turned to the girl and gave a weak smile as she answered in a voice so soft and loving, it nearly brought tears to Rapunzel's eyes. As the door closed, an ache lingered in her chest, a longing for her own mother.

 _I wish I could have stopped her. I wish she was here._

Rapunzel spun around; she was back in the white space, but she was still alone. "Who is that?" she asked, a note of urgency in her voice. "Who's there?!"

 _I wish she was here._ The words echoed around her, even though her own voice didn't travel. _She could fix this, all of it. I have to get her back._ A roaring sound began to build, vibrating in Rapunzel's ears until she clapped her hands over them. I have to! The voice was a shout now, loud enough to make Rapunzel jump. As she did, she could feel herself begin to wake up.

"Wait!" she cried. "Please, tell me who you are! Who is she?!"

Silence.

Then, Eugene snored loudly. Rapunzel's eyes opened wide to see early morning light filtering in through the caravan's rain-streaked windows. The rumble of thunder caused the glass pane to thrum almost melodically, and it set Rapunzel's teeth on edge as she sat up from her bunk and crossed over to the water barrel.

"Rapunzel?" Cassandra's contralto tone murmured behind her. Rapunzel turned to see her handmaiden's pale face creased into a concerned expression. "Is everything alright? It's not quite dawn yet, there's still time for you to sleep."

Rapunzel took a sip, the chill water settling down into her uneasy stomach. "I think I've had enough sleep," she admitted quietly.

Cassandra blinked once, flicking a lock of dark hair out of her way. "You had another dream? Was it about Varian, again?"

Rapunzel shook her head. "No, this one was different. There was a woman, with her daughter, I think. They both had this one red eye, the right one, like it was some kind of magic."

"Red eye?" Cassandra folded her arms, leaning against the wall as her forehead creased in thought. "Red eye…"

Rapunzel's face brightened with hope. "Do you know anything about it? She seemed so familiar, but I don't remember ever meeting anyone like her before."

Cassandra sighed. "I can't remember, either, but it sounds familiar. Something I might have heard from one of the soldiers, maybe?"

"Maybe that's what it is," Rapunzel conceded glumly. "I guess I must have heard it, too. But it's just…she looked at me, in the dream. Like she knew who I was. But how could that be if I've never met her? I hadn't met anybody outside my tower for years."

"I'm sure it was just a dream, Raps." Cassandra flexed her gloved hand – the hand that Rapunzel's incantation had burned. The only sign of pain she gave was a slight purse of her lips, and her steely gaze darted away. "They fade away with the dawn. They always do."

Rapunzel gave a weak smile. "We're almost there, aren't we?"

"Not sure," Cassandra admitted, still not looking at her. "Judging from the terrain and what we've been able to learn, maybe a few more weeks. Of course, if it keeps raining like this, who knows how long it'll really take."

"Well," Rapunzel said brightly. "At least the roof's not leaking."

"Yet," Cassandra noted wryly. "It's not leaking _yet._ "

* * *

Martin had never been to a witch's house before, but he'd read about them in stories when he was a child. They had always been described as old and dank, with a dark door of doom that always led to the throat of a monster or an open oven spouting green flames. He was surprised, then, when the Crimson Caster's cabin turned out to be just like any other forest house. The trees were dense with silver snow, their bark shimmering with frost, and the ground crinkled and crunched under his feet as he cautiously approached the half-dead horse outside the garden.

As he reached to brush his hand across the creature's dark neck, he wondered if the horse would make it through the night, like the witch girl said it would. He'd managed to purchase a mare without too much trouble, but even with the energy draught the boy had given her, it had still taken them three days to reach the Haderon Forest – an entire day more than how long they'd expected the racoon to live. Carrying three people across such a distance in so little time…Martin was impressed that she was still breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, tears blurring his vision. "If you live, I swear I'll never let anything like this happen to you again."

The mare's eye swiveled towards the sound of his voice, her breath pluming in the cold air.

"Please don't hate me," he muttered.

"She doesn't hate you," a voice said from behind. Martin swiveled his head to see the witch girl approaching, a wool shawl draped across her slim shoulders. Her black hair was down, covering her red eye as she stopped about five feet away. "I told you, she'll be alright."

Martin narrowed his gaze at her. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm right," she answered without blinking.

Martin sighed sharply. "She can't even stand."

"She will. Give her time."

The royal guard stood. "Don't you have a racoon to save?"

Shay folded her shawl closer. "I can't save him."

Fury slowly bubbled through Martin like molten lava, causing him to spring to his feet. "Do you mean to tell me that this horse is going to die needlessly because you couldn't save his stupid rat?!"

Shay flinched at his words, a flash of fear flickering across her flushed face. "I…there's food inside, if you want any," she managed to mumble before turning back towards the house; Martin could see her entire frame tremble, and a hint of guilt caused his anger to subside. He took no pleasure from scaring girls. But what was he even doing here? Strong-armed into helping a wanted criminal and his witch friend. How had he lost so much control of his situation? And what would the Captain be thinking, now that Martin had gone missing? Would he be assumed dead? A deserter? An accomplice?

What was he to do?

Eventually, he did come inside; darkness was beginning to fall, and he wanted to fetch another blanket for the mare. The witch girl was nowhere to be seen. At the cabin's table, Varian sat with his shoulders slumped, staring with bloodshot eyes at his dying racoon. Rudiger was barely breathing, his fur matted with sweat.

"Hey," Martin said.

Varian said nothing back. His black hair was smeared askew, like he'd run his hands through it in a panic. His forehead was slick, and his arms hung limply at his sides. He blinked once, quickly, as if he was forcing himself to keep his eyes open for as long as possible. Something seemed to emanate from him, something that made Martin uneasy.

Martin cleared his throat. "You should…probably get some rest."

The muscles in Varian's jaw clenched once. When he spoke, his voice was thick and hoarse. "One of the only friends I have, the one who saved me from that cell and brought me all this way, who helped me find this place, find the person who could save my dad, who's saved me from thieves and a witch hunter and Heaven knows what else…is _dying._ " His blue eyes finally turned towards Martin's pallid face. "And you think I should get some _rest?_ "

"Is there really nothing you can do?"

"Do I look like I've been twiddling my thumbs for the past three days?!" Varian stood so quickly from his seat, his chair toppled over onto the floor. The sound of his raised voice brought Shay down from her room, her bare feet thumping down the stairs until she stood at the bottom in a frightened fuss. Martin's eyes went wide as Varian looked like he was about to have a conniption. "I have tried everything I can think of to save him! Don't you get it?! This is my punishment, my consequence for everything I've done! And he's the one who suffers for it!" His hands were on Martin's shirt now, wringing fistfuls of fabric. " _What more do you want from me?!_ As if everything I've done wasn't enough?! I know! Why don't I just feed him more serum and see where that gets…"

He stopped. The anger on his face slowly morphed into something like awe. "The serum," he blinked, his fists falling away. "The _serum._ " He looked over. "Shay! What if we…"

The fear disappeared from Shay's orange eye. "Yes. Yes, it – it might work. There's a spell I can use."

"It's our best chance, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…there won't be any going back."

Martin was left to wonder what on earth was happening as Varian launched himself into his things, searching through his bag until he found a half-used vial of strange, alchemical fluid. "If it'll save him, that's all that matters." He rushed towards the table, and Shay met him there with a leather-bound tome in her hands. She opened it to a page and planted her finger on the passage she was looking for, tucking her hair out of her face so she could see with both eyes.

"How much should I give him?" Varian asked as he filled a dropper.

"As much as you can," Shay answered. "Once he's ingested it, I'll take it from there."

"But isn't that the same stuff that's killing him?" Martin exclaimed. Had they both gone insane?!

Varian and Shay ignored him as they worked; Varian scooped Rudiger gingerly into his arms and forced the dropper into the creature's mouth. "Come on, Rudiger," he hissed, his entire frame tight as a wire. "Don't give up. It's going to be okay, now."

The racoon gulped once, coughed, then gulped some more.

"We need to take him outside," Shay urged, leading the way out the front door. Varian followed, Martin close behind. Rudiger was placed in the snow, and they all stood back as Shay began the incantation. She gestured swiftly with her fingers, tracing glowing red figures in the air. She finished with a flourish, and the characters shot towards Rudiger, swirling around him into a whirling circle of crimson light.

There was a flash, blinding them with red. Then there was a loud, hissing sound, and steam blossomed around them, so thick that they couldn't see.

"Did it work?" Varian exclaimed, batting at the fog.

When it finally cleared, Martin felt a pang of fear enter his heart. Slumped before him in a heap was the same beastly creature that Varian had created on the night of his escape. Brown grass hissed beneath its hulking frame, snow melting in wet heaps near Martin's feet.

Varian rushed forward, calling the creature's name. "Rudiger!" he cried, searching for the beast's face. He found it underneath a front leg, heaving it aside to check its eyes. The witch stood still, watching warily.

Then Rudiger lifted his head and yawned, his massive, toothy maw open wide as he breathed the fresh, winter air.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven: Pretending

The late fall air was surprisingly warm, the Haderon Forest still and quiet as evening fell over the Crimson Caster's cabin. The light of the flames across the hearth were barely flickering, the fire almost unwavering as Varian finally came in from outside. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, suddenly exhausted. He looked up and saw that Martin was dozing at the table, his head nodding as he tried to keep his dark eyes open.

The guard stirred as Varian sat down across from him, the chair legs scratching across the wood floor. "How's your horse?" Varian asked.

"Oh, she's…she's actually standing now," Martin muttered, smearing a hand across his unshaven face. "I guess the wit – I mean the girl, was right. Even if her cutlery did threaten me when I came inside again." He yawned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "How's your…whatever it is now?"

Varian barely had enough energy to respond. "He's fine. He ate almost twenty pounds of apples, then fell asleep again."

Martin smirked. "Didn't really think too much about the consequences, did you? There's no way you can hide him, he'll stick out like a sore thumb no matter where you go."

Varian nodded. "Yeah."

"He's really going to be that way forever, huh?"

"Yeah." In truth, Varian wasn't even sure how long 'forever' was going to be. The transformation might have affected Rudiger's lifespan one way or the other, but there was simply no way of telling. For now, he was alive and well, and that was all that mattered to him.

Martin mirrored Varian's head bob. "Well, at least you get an awesome mount."

Varian gave a single chuckle, then coughed uncomfortably. "Sorry about earlier. It's, uh…It's been a long week."

"I'm fine," Martin sniffed nonchalantly. "It's fine." They sat there in awkward silence for a moment. He sat up a little straighter and started tracing the table grain with a lazy finger. "So, you really meant what you said? All that stuff about moon spirits and Haderon's tomb and this Tan Ziri character?"

"Zhan Tiri."

"Whatever. Is it really all true?"

Varian leaned back in his seat and showed his empty hands. "Look at me. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried."

Martin ran a hand through his sandy hair, blowing out his lips. "Well, crap. I can honestly say, I never thought something like this would happen. I never thought magic would come back to this land. All I've ever cared about was serving Corona, making sure people like my father would never have to beg for scraps again." He curled his toes inside the boot that Shay had magically replicated for him, to replace the one he'd lost. "I guess we both have dads we can't afford to let down." He looked Varian in the eye. "The day you escaped, I swore I would bring you back and have you answer for it all."

Varian slowly felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten, and he pressed his feet firmly to the ground.

But Martin made a dismissive gesture. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything right now."

"What are you going to do, then? You can't just let me go."

"No," Martin shook his head. "No, I can't. But if what you say is true, that there's some demonic entity that's going to attack the kingdom I've sworn to protect, and you know how to stop it…well, I can't arrest you if you have no kingdom to answer to. And I can't just let you go on your own. I have no guarantee you'd come back, except your word. So…I guess I'll have to go with you."

Varian coughed. "I don't think so. It's bad enough that you know where this place is."

"So, I know too much. Isn't that all the more reason to keep me around?" Martin countered. "I mean, let's be honest, you don't want me to go back and report any of this as it is, anyway. What better way to keep me quiet than to keep an eye on me? This doesn't have to be a babysitting gig for me – it's a mutual arrangement. One that we've kind of already been doing. Besides, as much as you think you're a fighter with that bow of yours, there are things out there that you'll wish you had a trained soldier for."

Varian chewed the inside of his cheek. He was right. They were all stuck between a world-conquering demon and a hard place; if Varian was one of the chosen to put a stop to it, he was going to need all the help he could get. "Okay," he agreed. "Alright. But there are some ground rules we need to lay out. No treating me like a prisoner _or_ like a kid."

"You mean we have to be friends?"

Varian held up his hands. "You said it, not me."

Martin shrugged. "Well, I do sort of owe you my life. If that doesn't make us friends, I guess I don't have a better word for it." He cracked a tired – but warm – smile and extended his hand.

Varian shook it with a smile of his own, his grip firm and sincere.

"Well," Martin yawned again, "now that that's settled, I guess I'll see what the girl has set up for us to sleep."

Varian frowned. "The girl has a name, you know."

Martin peered around the cabin with a squinted gaze. "Did she ever come in?"

"What do you mean? I thought she was upstairs."

"No," Martin shook his head. "She went outside a while ago. Unless there's another door I don't know about, or if she teleported or something."

Varian went to the back window and swept the curtain aside, his forehead creased as he searched. Then he crossed to the back door and stepped outside. The light from the house bled out from the window, spilling onto the blue snow in rosy hues. The cooler atmosphere was inviting, and Varian could see flecks of moonlight reaching down through the branches overhead. He took a deep, cleansing breath, then let it out, his breath misting in front of him as he made his way towards the garden gate.

Everything was still growing, untouched by the season's chill; even the temperature felt different as he picked his way slowly towards the rickety bench, where Shay sat underneath her mother's tree. She had tied her black hair out of her face, but the moonlight overhead cast a shadow, hiding her expression. She had a small bundle in her lap, a folded handkerchief filled with tender shoots from the lower branches. She sang a familiar tune under her breath, continuing her mother's song:

 _Where is your home, vagabond?_

 _Searching on and on, always on the run_

 _Searching on and on, always on the run_

Killy jumped down from her side and bounded over to Varian as he approached, sniffing playfully at his feet. Varian reached down to stroke the hare's brown face, tapping his pink nose once before standing up to speak.

"You okay?" he asked.

Shay didn't answer at first. She picked purposefully at a corner of the handkerchief, her eyes closed as she felt the fabric between her fingers. "I've been thinking," she said quietly, almost a whisper. "About what you said. About the Celestial. About Zhan Tiri." She opened her eyes and stared up at him, her fingers still. "I'm beginning to wonder if I was wrong."

Varian knelt to her eye level and wet his lips. "About what?"

"Everything." Shay gazed into her lap, her voice monotone and lifeless. "You not being cursed. Not using Spellbane to free my mother. Going off to find Xavier." She focused her look somewhere to the right, deep into the dark of the forest. "This power you have, this task you've been given…Would you have it if you hadn't come here? If you hadn't left that prison?"

"Shay, don't –"

"What's the difference between having no choice but to travel halfway across the world to appease some otherworldly force…and being cursed?" She snapped her eyes to his, her jaw tighter than a vise. "Why do you have to do this? Why do you have to do any of it?"

"Shay –"

"It should be me," she cut him off, her hands fisting over her knees. "I should be the one to bear this burden, not you."

Varian made a desperate shake of his head. "I don't want you to have this," he hissed. "This isn't something you deserve. If it means I'm the one who gets threatened and hunted down –"

"Do you think I want that?" she begged. "Don't you understand –"

"No!" he exclaimed. "I don't understand! I'm the one who chose to come here. I chose to decipher your mother's journal."

Shay didn't budge. "I shouldn't have taken you to that door."

"And I shouldn't have touched it."

"I should have gone to Xavier alone."

"And I shouldn't have helped you." Varian suddenly felt a chuckle bubble up out of his chest, mirth creasing his freckled face. "We can do this all night, this back and forth, wondering how we can change the past. How things could have been different. But we can't." He frowned for a moment. "Right? We can't do that, can we? I mean, there's not a spell for it or anything?"

Shay sighed through her nose, and her face threatened to crack into a helpless smile. "If there was, don't you think I would have tried it by now?" She sobered, her back straightening. "If it's not my responsibility to find this…this Moonstone, then it's up to me to help you reach it."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to." Shay tied the handkerchief closed. "I've been waiting here in this place for so long. I didn't know what I was waiting for. Now I do. And I won't ignore it. Whatever you need, as much as I can offer." Her face scrunched into a pitiful pout. "Though it may not be much, I suppose."

"Well, I don't know about that. You are pretty. Pretty smuh-smart, I mean. And, you know, resourceful." He winced inwardly, waiting for her to tell him how dumb he sounded.

But she smirked instead, a shy turn of her mouth that Varian stared at for too long. "I don't know if that's really enough."

"Oh. Okay." Varian cleared his throat, his face glowing red as he realized he'd grabbed her hands. "You're, uh…you're thoughtful."

"No, I meant –"

"No, no, I'm not finished." He cleared his throat again. "And you're special. Oh! You're really good at cooking."

She squinted. "Liar."

He looked up into her face. "What? No, I'm serious, that bread was amazing!"

Finally, she laughed, a genuine giggle that sent fireworks up his spine.

"Okay, my turn," he said with false sobriety, trying to hide the sudden excitement in his chest. "Now you get to say something nice about me."

Shay's face went soft, her eyes searching for something in his expectant gaze. "I…I don't think I could put all of it into words."

Varian made a disappointed face. "Oh, come on."

"No, I mean…" She pulled her hands out from his and placed them on his shoulders. "I could say it, but…I don't think you would want me to."

Varian's eyebrows drew together. "Say what?"

Before he could stop it – or maybe because he chose not to care – she leaned into the space between them and placed a very long, very deep kiss on his cheek. It wasn't the uncomfortable kind of kiss a grandmother would bestow, nor was it the chaste kiss a sister might give. It was the kind of kiss that Varian wished he could return tenfold, the kind of kiss that made his arms ache, the kind that made him grateful he was already kneeling so that his legs didn't have the chance to give out from beneath him, the kind that made him wonder how it would have felt if she had aimed just an inch or two further to the left.

Immediately, Varian knew what the kiss meant. He also knew it meant that he was about to break her heart. The pure ecstasy he might have felt turned into pain as she pulled away; she already knew what he was going to do, and she hung her head in burning shame.

Varian didn't know what he was doing until he felt himself tug one of his gloves off, and he reached to lift her chin with his bare hand, forcing her to look at him. "I…" He stared at her, wishing with all his might that he could be someone else, anyone else, wishing that he'd never set eye on those wretched black rocks. He could tell that she saw it in him; he could feel the desperation rolling off her in waves, he could almost hear her screaming at him in his mind, begging him to make the choice he knew they both wanted.

But everything he wanted in that moment, he knew he couldn't have.

His hand fell away, his fingers freezing as they left her skin. He slowly stood, refusing to look her in the eyes; he couldn't bear to see the agony he knew was there. He didn't want her to see the tears blurring his own vision, so he turned and walked away. It felt like he was moving in place, like every step was through a field of molasses. He felt heavier than a ten-ton boulder as he quietly opened the back door and stepped inside the house.

Martin was at the window, his brown eyes darting towards Varian as he opened his mouth to speak. But any retort or accusation died in his throat when he took in the sight of him. He watched Varian pull out a blanket, drape it on the wood floor, and curl up into the tightest fetal position Martin had ever seen.

 _Pathetic_ was the word that came to mind. Martin was wise enough to not say it out loud. Instead, he sighed, closed the window curtain, and laid down again to sleep, the silence of the Crimson Caster's house sweeping over them like a shroud.

* * *

Dawn broke out in glimmering golden shimmers through the cabin windows, the silence still there as everyone got up and began to work. The boys didn't know when Shay had entered the house, but she came down the stairs, wearing the same dress she'd worn on the day Varian first came. She had fixed the large tear in the skirt, and she handed Martin a bundle of new clothes to change into. As they tidied themselves up and folded their blankets back into the trunk, she tied her plaid apron around her waist, set Killy down on the floor, and began to crack eggs into a skillet over the fire. The sound of each shell splitting in two made Varian's face twitch as he pulled his boots on and exited through the front door to visit Rudiger. Martin left through the back door to check on his mare, running his hands quickly through his blonde hair in a hasty effort to tame it out of his eyes.

The morning was warm, a promise that winter hadn't arrived quite just yet. The snow disappeared within an hour, and Varian's feet crunched across brown leaves and dry grass as he checked Rudiger's temperature and searched his permanent, hulking form for any injuries. Rudiger snuffled at him when he was done, trying to find treats that were now far too small to satisfy him.

"Sorry, buddy," Varian apologized, scratching behind the racoon's pan-sized ears. "I don't have anything for you. I'm sorry."

Rudiger sat back on his haunches; Varian estimated that Shay's spell had made the creature roughly 0.15% bigger than he normally would have transformed into. Still, he didn't appear to be harmed. He didn't even seem especially bothered by what had happened, almost as if he had been this way his entire life. Despite how he felt, Varian managed a small smile. If Rudiger could learn to be happy with the way things had turned out, maybe in time, so could he.

"Hey, kid! Breakfast is ready."

Varian jumped; he hadn't heard Martin approach from behind. He turned to see the guard standing there in his new outfit; linen trousers with a denim vest over a grey shirt. Varian wasn't sure where Shay had found them, but they fit the guard perfectly. "Looks good," Varian noted out loud. "Did she even measure you?"

Martin shrugged. "I hardly expect a suit of armor."

Varian watched Rudiger sniff curiously in Martin's direction. "She might have one somewhere. Her dad used to be…well, I probably shouldn't tell you. It's not important."

Martin snorted. "Usually when people say that, it actually turns out to be very important."

"You ask her, then," Varian scrambled up onto Rudiger's back, trying to grow accustomed to the feel once more. "Maybe she'll tell you. Yep, definitely 0.15%, maybe even 0.20%."

"She won't talk to me," Martin shook his head. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you."

Martin gave an involuntary shiver. "She won't stop staring at me."

Varian sighed. "She's just afraid of you."

"That's not fear. She hates me."

"Okay, fine, she hates you!" Varian exclaimed. "Are you happy now? Look, go easy on her."

Martin frowned. "Why should I 'go easy' on someone who has it out for me?"

"She's been on her own for the past seven years, remember? And she gave you new clothes. _And_ she replaced your boot." They stood there in silence for a moment. "Besides," Varian added reluctantly, "I'm the one she probably hates right now."

Martin slowly approached the giant racoon; Rudiger sniffed at his new clothes as he carefully reached to touch the creature's wet nose. "What happened?"

"It's none of your business."

Martin raised an eyebrow.

"It's complicated," Varian supplied.

"How complicated can it be?" Martin folded his arms.

"We were childhood friends, but my memory was erased, so I don't remember."

Martin's shoulders reached his ears. "There, see? You told me in one sentence. Not that complicated." He started moving back towards the cabin. "Listen," he said with his back turned. "I don't know that much about women, but I do know this much." He turned around. "If she's really into you – and for some reason, she is – shutting her down isn't going to change that. It just makes you a jerk."

Varian simmered, fistfuls of grey fur bunching in his grip. His gaze threatened to burn a blue hole into the nearest tree.

"I mean," Martin clapped his hands to his sides, "unless you're not into her, in which case you're even more of a jerk for stringing her along –"

"That's not it," Varian cut him off with a hiss. "It's…I can't. I don't want her to be."

Martin donned the most bewildered expression Varian had ever seen. "Why not? She's not half-bad looking. She's not out to kill you. With you having a criminal record, she's probably as good as your going to get!"

"I told you, that's not it!" Varian insisted. "It's…where I'm going, there's no place for her. She'd be better off forgetting me, when all this is over." He deflated, slumping forward into a miserable hunch. "More than I probably am for not remembering her," he finished with a mumble.

"Wow," Martin blinked. "That was so dramatic, it actually tastes like my second cousin's house."

Varian opened his mouth to shout a scathing retort, but he stopped mid-word as he felt the muscles in Rudiger's back tense up like steel cables. A rumble vibrated through his body as the racoon began to growl menacingly. "What is it?" he asked, dread filling his chest until his heart began to ram inside his rib cage.

Martin reached for the hilt of his sword, scanning the meadow. It was deathly quiet; even the birds had gone silent. "Get inside," Martin ordered. When Varian didn't move, he reached for his arm and dragged him unceremoniously off the racoon's back. "I said get inside, now!"

They scrambled to the cabin, but Varian paused in the doorway. "Rudiger!" he exclaimed, turning around to go back. But Martin blocked the way, shoving him through the frame and closing the door with a slam.

Shay was at the table, her mismatched eyes wide with alarm. "What's going on?"

"You said something about a witch hunter working with the scouts?" Martin asked. "My guess is that he's led them here."

Shay went white as a sheet.

Varian clenched his fists. "We need to get out of here, now."

Martin made his way to the back window, peeking out past the garden. "I can't tell if we're surrounded or not. We might be able to get through if…oh, no."

Varian practically climbed over him to see what was going on. His face contorted in horror as they watched Caius emerge from the forest's shadows. He was alone, his scarred face set in stone, his grey hair floating in the fall breeze as he planted his feet firmly outside the garden and stopped with his arms at his sides. Martin's mare was tied to one of the garden gate posts; she stirred restlessly as Caius appeared, freezing anxiously as he stood there, waiting just outside the barrier Shay had made.

"Is –" Martin swallowed, "– is that him?"

Varian felt like he was going to be sick. "Mmhm."

"He's unarmed," Martin observed under his breath. "There's no way he's here alone, it's definitely a trap."

Varian saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he lurched away from the window as Shay made a beeline for the back door. "Shay, don't!" He grabbed her before she could reach the handle. "What're you thinking? You can't go out there!"

"He's right," Martin agreed. "If any of us go out there, I can almost guarantee there'll be scouts with crossbows lined up to take you out."

Shay wrenched herself around Varian to glare viciously at Martin. "I don't trust a word you say," she spat at him. "For all I know, you're working with them." Flames bloomed from her fingertips, forcing Varian to leap back. A flicker of guilt shadowed Shay's features, but she didn't stop. "Corona was their place, but this place is _mine._ I will make them leave."

Varian felt his breath pick up as frustration threatened to overwhelm him. "Listen to me," he explained in a barely-controlled voice. "You can't go out there."

But his words only strengthened Shay's resolve. "I can, and I will," she declared.

"Crazy girl," Martin interjected. "We still have the advantage here. If you go out there, we lose it."

Something entered Varian's mind. "The spell," he snapped his fingers at Shay. "That spell you were talking about, the teleportation one. It was too far before, but if we could just get out of the forest –"

"– Then we'd have a head's start, at least," Martin finished.

Shay stood there, her entire frame stiff as a board. "Caius is here for one reason," she said. "He's here for my father's sword. If I hand over Spellbane, he'll leave us alone."

"Absolutely not," Varian insisted. "He'll go kill your mother and unleash Haderon's magic. Corona will be destroyed before Zhan Tiri can flick a finger."

"Wait!" Martin raised a hand. "Someone else is coming out. It's…" His face blanched with dread.

Varian made sure Shay wasn't going to do anything hasty before moving towards the window again. Outside, another figure had appeared, bearing Corona's crest on his pauldron and an epaulette signifying his rank as a lieutenant. "Martin, who is he?"

"It's Yaeger," Martin answered. He sounded ill. "The Captain's lead scout lieutenant. They say he's from Sapporia, but the Captain saved his life once."

"Is he good?"

Martin coughed. "I just said, he's from Sapporia. Of course, he's good!"

"It doesn't matter," Shay growled from behind. "I said I would make them leave, regardless of who they are."

Martin flung his finger almost through the window pane. "Listen to me! That guy alone could kill you thirty different ways from Tuesday. It doesn't matter whether you have magic or not, he _will_ find a way to take you down!"

"Shh!" Varian crept towards the back door. "Listen, he's saying something."

As they quieted, they could hear the lieutenant shouting out across the meadow. "Quirinson! We know you're in there, and we mean you no harm. If you come out now, we can end this peacefully. No one has to get hurt."

"He's not a liar," Martin told him. "He won't hurt you, but he will attempt an arrest."

"No kidding," Varian hissed.

"We have reason to believe that one of our soldiers is with you," Yaeger continued. "If he is, I assume him to be your hostage."

A ray of hope shot across Martin's visage. "They don't think I'm an accomplice!"

"You _are_ an accomplice," Shay sneered at him.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, little miss fussy pants, but so are you!"

"Shut up!" Varian told them. "He's saying more."

"We don't have to be enemies, Varian. You have something I want, and I can offer you something you need."

"Martin chewed his lip until it bled. "I think he's going to offer to negotiate a reduced sentence."

"I'm offering you a chance no one else is going to give you," Yaeger announced. "Give up my soldier, turn yourself in, and I will negotiate a reduced sentence for you. You have my word, on my honor as a servant of Corona."

"Give us the boy, little hawk." The blood in Varian's veins turned icy at the sound of Caius' husky voice. "You've had fun playing around, going on your adventure to the capitol. Don't you think it's time to stop pretending?"

The flames grew up Shay's arms at the sound of her uncle's voice. "No," she whispered. In a flash, she was at the door, and this time Varian was too late to stop her as she flung the door open and marched her way into the grass. " _You're_ the one who's pretending!" she cried out, her tone escalating. "Pretending to be my friend! Pretending that you care about me! Pretending that you didn't kill my father!"

"I didn't kill your father," Caius said calmly; with the door open, it was easy to hear everything. "I set him free."

Shay shrieked through her teeth, red sparks shooting through her hair.

Caius took a step forward, almost across the barrier line. "You know your mother has kept secrets from you, little hawk."

" _Stop calling me that!_ "

"You know what she went down into that tomb for."

Shay clapped her flaming hands to her head. "NO!"

Yaeger's arm shot out in front of Caius. "That's enough. We're only here for the boy!"

"You want me?!" Varian stood in the doorway, his chin level as his blue eyes burned. Ignoring Martin's protests, he stepped out into the meadow, his arms shaking at his sides. He could feel Shay staring at him in shock as he planted his feet a few yards away, jutting a thumb into his sternum. "You can have me!"


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Letting Go

Yaeger blinked in surprise, and even Caius raised an eyebrow. Everyone seemed to be waiting on bated breath for someone to say something. "Very good, son," the lieutenant raised his hands, slowly taking his helmet off. Varian felt a twinge of guilt when he saw the dark circles underneath the soldier's dark eyes. He looked younger than he acted, maybe late twenties, with a tanned complexion and chestnut hair. "I know this isn't easy for you. None of this has been. If you just –"

"I'm not finished," Varian cut him off, the shake in his voice barely noticeable. The sun beating down on his dark head felt reassuring, like a warm hand had been placed there. "I said you can have me, and I mean every word. But it won't be today. There's something I have to do, and I can't do it behind a cell wall."

Yaeger narrowed his gaze. "I highly advise against whatever it is you're going to do, Varian. You and I both know we don't want the situation to escalate any further than it already has. You're smart, I know that. I also know what happened at the Saison Bridge wasn't your fault. I know you think it has to be this way, but it doesn't. I know you want to run away, and if I were in your position, I would want to as well. The best option here is for you and your friend to stand down and come back to the capitol in peace. No harm will come to either of you, I swear it."

Varian knew in his heart that the lieutenant was being nothing but sincere. Under any other circumstance, he would have been tempted to take him up on his offer. He sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding until he couldn't hold in anymore. "I'm sorry, lieutenant," he apologized, just loud enough for Yaeger to hear. "I can't do that. Please try to understand."

Yaeger sighed, his shoulders slumping with bitter regret. "Then I have no choice but to bring you in by force," he answered as he replaced his helmet. "I wish it didn't have to come to this."

Varian nodded soberly. "So do I. RUDIGER!"

Two seconds later, Rudiger exploded from around the cabin, his large eyes narrowed into slits as he started barreling his way across the meadow. Before Yaeger could say anything, the giant racoon had launched himself into the trees, and a series of cries issued from the soldiers there as their guerrilla tactics swiftly fell apart.

"Hold your ground!" Yaeger shouted from his position, moving to assist his men. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the sound of a crossbow bolt locking into place, aimed squarely into the unarmored space under his arm. He turned his head enough to see Caius holding the weapon, the witch hunter completely stoic and unmoving.

"Caius!" Varian yelled.

"Lower the barrier, little hawk," Caius ordered, his gaze swiveling until his blind eye landed on Shay's ashen face. "Or this man's blood is on your hands."

All attention diverted to Shay, who stood there in complete, undiluted terror. Her jaw was tight, her eyes frozen, as she watched her uncle's finger play with the crossbow trigger.

"Shay, don't listen to him!" Varian exclaimed. "Caius, let him go!"

"If I die," Yaeger vowed, his words filled with resolve, "it will be in service to my kingdom. In this, I have no regrets."

Varian made his way to the edge of the barrier, less than five feet away from the witch hunter. Caius didn't move, but his blind eye swiveled to stare as the young man approached. "I know what you really want," Varian insisted. "You can kill him and his entire patrol, and it won't make a difference. You can't have that sword!"

"Sword?" Yaeger breathed. "What sword?"

Caius' arm remained extended, his meaty fingers firm on his weapon. "That's not your decision to make now, is it?" He looked over Varian's head at Shay, raising his free hand until it hovered less than an inch away from the barrier. The magic hummed under his fingertips, and red waves started to emanate from the near-contact. "Remove the barrier and give me the sword. You are in no position to negotiate, and, quite frankly, I grow tired of wasting my time. I won't ask again, little hawk. Stop trying to delay the inevitable."

Varian felt Shay approach from behind, and he watched in horror as she slowly raised her shuddering hands to the barrier wall. Even though she was unmistakably afraid, Varian could see hatred in the depths of her, like a boiling river held back by a concrete dam.

Then, Varian saw something from the cabin window, a flicker of light as the pane silently rose out of the way. Several things happened at once: impulsively, he ducked just before Martin shot an arrow across the field, striking into Caius' forearm. At the same time, Caius shot at Yaeger, his efforts futile as his aim was knocked askew; Yaeger dove forward, snatching the crossbow before the witch hunter could recover.

With the lieutenant out of harm's way, Shay threw her arms down and shot her fingers forward, shrieking in fury as the dam inside her broke into pieces. Varian felt the magic roll off her in waves as the barrier around the cabin blossomed into a dome of fire, flames roiling in hot strikes across the air. Through the heat and burning light, Varian could see Yaeger's look of awe behind his helmet, but Caius remained still as he ripped the arrow out of his arm with a deft, irritated flick.

Through the sound of the inferno, Varian heard Shay's voice. "You can't have him." Her hair was red now, like how it had been at the Saison Bridge, and as she started to move forward, the barrier began to expand. "You won't have my father's sword. And you will NEVER set foot on these grounds AGAIN!"

"Varian!" Martin was out of the house now, trying to reach his horse. The mare was trying to break away from the garden post, and he managed to untie her before she could hurt herself. "Varian, we've got to go, _now_!"

"Rudiger!" Varian called. "Shay, let him in!"

Her glowing eyes darted to the left, and an opening appeared just in time, just long enough, for Rudiger to launch himself through. The racoon held a guard's sword between his teeth, spitting it out on the ground with a proud flick of his giant tail.

Yaeger had reluctantly retreated, trying hastily to regroup his men in the woods. Caius, however, still hadn't moved, a manic grin spreading across his sinister face as the flames grew closer. The hot light lit the intensity in his eyes as he glared with almost childlike glee at his niece. "Yes, little hawk," he called over the sound of the magic, "do what your father could not. Show me the strength of your ambition!"

"Shay!" Varian ran to her, trying to wrench her back by the shoulder. She barely moved at his touch, and he felt the magic within himself call to hers, begging to be used. It took every ounce of will to fight it, to keep his own power in check. "Shay, we have to get out of here!"

" _No!_ " Shay cried. "This place is all I have left! He's taken everything else away from me!"

Varian tugged again, still to no avail. "Then don't let him win! Help me find the Moonstone! We can still put an end to this!"

"No," she repeated, the flames intensifying around them. " _I_ can put an end to this, right now, like I should have before! If I can't have my place, then neither can he!"

 _If I can't have a happy ending, then neither can you!_ Varian's own words echoed in his mind, bitter and caustic as they ghosted across his tongue. He could see the automaton's panel in front of him again, the controls tight in his grip as the red glare of the glass engulfed his vision. "Listen to me!" he begged, almost in a whisper. "I know what you're feeling right now. I know you want to make him pay for everything he's done, and I don't blame you. But it's not worth losing everything you are to rob him of something he'll never have. He gave up his happy ending a long time ago, but yours is still out there. Don't compromise it by turning into what he wants you to be."

Shay blinked, and the light in her eyes wavered. "I –" She squared her shoulders. "I can't let him have this place. I won't!"

"Shay, you _are_ this place."

A tear ran down Shay's cheek, evaporating from the heat of the flames.

"Shay." Varian tugged one last time. "Let it go."

At first, it didn't seem to work. Then Shay closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she strained to close her fingers. Varian could feel the spell fighting back, like a piece of rebar that refused to cut. "I – I can't! I've given it too much. If I end the spell now…" She cringed, her arms faltering. "The barrier will collapse, and my magic will have no place to go! The rebound will kill us!"

"The teleportation spell!" Varian reminded her. "What if we used the potential energy of the barrier? It would stop the rebound and get us out of here!"

Shay seemed to consider it. She nodded her head vigorously. "I can try, but I…I can't hold this much longer!"

"Martin! Rudiger! Come on!" With his friends gathered close, Varian reached out as Shay began to chant, trying to help her stabilize the energy around them.

"What are you guys doing?!" Martin shouted from his mount. Rudiger whined and whimpered, waiting for the worst to come.

Varian planted his feet into the ground, gritting his teeth. "Hang on!" Arms outstretched, he allowed just a fraction of the moon's strength to ebb out from his fingertips.

The result was a ripple of violet light that surged like a heartbeat around the barrier, silencing the flames in a wave of muted energy. For an instant, the entire world was quiet. Then, there was an earth-shattering boom as the magic dispelled, rocketing through the air with enough force to send everyone flying. The ground undulated beneath them like an ocean wave, and Varian caught a glimpse of Lyra's garden bursting into flames as Caius was thrown backwards.

Then the entire world seemed to morph into a kaleidoscope of light and color. He wasn't sure at first whether he was falling or rising, sliding backwards or hurtling forward – maybe all at once. He tumbled and slid as reality dipped and swayed, his ears ringing as it all crashed and thundered around him.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but he finally felt the magic subside, and he felt himself slam hard into the ground. The force of the impact knocked him out cold, and he laid there for some time, unconscious of anything and everything in the world.

* * *

 _Varian. Varian, wake up. Now is not the time to sleep._

Varian stirred. _What?_

 _I grow weary. When the time comes, I fear you will not be strong enough._

There was a flash of light, and the scar tissue in his left shoulder burned.

When he came to, he was on his back, staring up at a dark, cloudy sky. It made it difficult to tell what time of day it was, or how long he had been out. He rolled onto his side with a groan and dragged himself to his feet, blinking and disoriented. He stared at his surroundings, trying to get his bearings. Were they still in the Haderon Forest? The Crimson Caster's cabin was nowhere to be seen, and the trees around them seemed to be different. The soil under his feet smelled warmer, denser, and the wind in his hair was more humid. The foliage was darker, growing closer together, and the branches overhead were still endowed with green.

"Where are we?" he breathed. "Where's…Martin?" He turned around in a circle; amidst the trees, he saw no one. "Shay?! Rudiger!" He waited to hear a response, but only his own voice came back to him, short and desperate in his humming ears. He started to panic, clutching a hand to his tightening chest as his breath grew shallow. Was he here all alone? Had the spell gone wrong and teleported only him? Were the others still back at Shay's home? Was he even in the same world, or was he on some other plane? Was he dead?

A rustling sound snapped him out of his terrified thoughts, and he whirled about, reaching for his father's bow. Then he remembered, he didn't have it; he had left it in the cabin. He reached instead for his pocket, hoping to find some kind of solution there. Miraculously, he found a small vial of lock acid, and he held it suffocatingly tight in his hand; it wasn't much, but it was reassuring to have, at least.

"Who's there?" he called out.

The rustling grew closer, and something small and brown shot out into the open, leaping into Varian's arms with a twitching nose and an urgent sound.

"Killy!"  
The hare kicked himself out of Varian's grip and dashed back in the same direction, sliding to a stop as he waited on hind legs for Varian to follow.

"I'm coming!" Varian started running after, pushing ferns and low-hanging branches out of his way. Killy proved almost too fast for him to keep up with, and the hare paused more than once for Varian to catch up. The ground started to incline, and Varian's headache was forgotten as he was forced to climb his way up a craggy slope.

When he reached the top, a valley opened out before him, the trees giving way to a sight he had never seen before. The forest swelled and spilled out in wide, tumbling streaks, skirting around rivers and streams, melting around hills that eventually erupted into mountainous peaks on the horizon. In the distance, he could see a great summit towering towards the dark clouds, with a bright, manmade spire reaching out from amongst the cliffs. The spire was clothed in turquoise rock, its shimmering face dim as the sky overhead concealed the sun's piercing rays.

"It's…" Varian swallowed. "This isn't Corona anymore."

* * *

 **END OF PART ONE**

Author's Note: _This chapter of Tangled: Witch War marks the halfway point of Varian's journey to save his father, defeat Zhan Tiri, and claim his destiny. Part Two will see Varian and his friends endure more hardship than ever before, and a finale that will determine the fate of everyone in Corona. Thank you to all who have followed the story thus far - it doesn't end here; Varian's adventure is only beginning!_


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine: Guests of the Spire

The air became more humid as Varian moved downhill, his feet nearly flying out from under him as he practically sprinted to keep up with Killy. The hare eventually slowed as they entered more trees, dark foliage engulfing them in cool shadows as the animal sniffed and twitched about. He took off sporadically, forcing Varian to speed up and slow down. As he once again stumbled into a brisk stride, Varian's thoughts soon caught up to him, leaving him anxious and disheveled. What if Killy was just as lost as he was? A land like this would be perfect for creatures like bears and wild boars to live in; if they stumbled upon anything like that, not even Varian's meager vial would help. Worse yet, if he was the only one here…

His mind screeched to an urgent halt as Killy stopped and gave a single cry of alarm. "What is it?" Varian hissed, adrenaline flooding his system. He braced himself, waiting to leap out of the way at the first sight of something large and vicious bursting out of the trees. Shay's hare fled into Varian's shadow, shivering against the back of his boot.

But instead of a large, carnivorous beast, a figure emerged from the shadows: a person cloaked in black, face obscured by a deep hood. A male voice spoke from the depths, and an aged, liver-spotted hand reached out in an inviting gesture.

"It's quite alright, young man. Let's not do anything too hasty, now." The hood twisted slightly, as if the figure was tilting his head. "You took quite the fall, from the looks of it. It seems I may have underestimated the young lady's aptitude."

"Who are – young lady – just hold on!" Varian waved his hands, his thumb still gripping the vial to his palm. "Listen, I don't know what's going on, but where are we? Where are my friends?!"

The figure reached up to remove his hood, revealing a very wise-looking elderly man with a snowy white beard. His head was bare, and crows' feet adorned the corners of his ageless grey eyes. Varian could see that the robe he wore beneath his cloak was stark white, almost pristine, and he watched as a welcoming smile spread across his wrinkled face. "You are south of the kingdom of Corona, just past Kresten Loch, approximately…oh, if I had to guess…five hundred miles from your previous location."

Varian's jaw dropped. "Five hundr – h-how did…" His head swam as he felt uselessly behind him for an invisible chair. The old man caught him by the arm before he could fall over, his grip surprisingly strong.

"As for your friends," the old man continued as he helped Varian steady himself, "they are safe. Come, my keep is not far from here."

"I…" Varian swallowed. "S-sure, I guess." He followed helplessly as the old man led him along, down a forest path he hadn't noticed before. The ground under his feet felt wobbly, and he could tell he was dehydrated. "Wait," he managed to speak. "You still haven't told me who you are."

"Who I am isn't entirely important," the old man answered without turning. "For your purposes, you may call me the Keeper. Well, retired now, but I did serve as Keeper for many, many…many years."

"Uh-huh," Varian reached out to a nearby tree to steady himself as he climbed a slope. "What exactly were you keepi…you know what, it doesn't matter. I just want to find my friends. As long as you're leading me to them, I don't care who you are."

Despite Varian's blunt words, the Keeper actually chuckled. "I remember when I was your age. I was brash too, always quick to assume and dismiss." A light started to grow ahead, and Varian could smell wood smoke. "Ah, here we are. Fortunate that you all didn't end up too far apart from each other, though I suppose that's to be expected in light of the rather urgent incantation you helped perform."

Varian followed the old man out into a small clearing, where a modest campfire was lit within a ring of granite stones. Sitting close to the fire was Martin, his hand gripping a spit as he turned a deer leg over the burning heat. The guard looked none the worse for wear, though a semi-permanent crag had etched itself between his dark eyes. It disappeared when he looked up as Varian arrived, and he immediately leapt to his feet. "Varian!" He ran to him, clapping his hands to his shoulders. "Hey, you're alright!"

Varian stared up into his face, his eyes wide with surprise at the warm greeting.

"Right, sorry," Martin stepped away, clearing his throat as he forced the joy off his face. "I just, uh, you know, you're alive and stuff. So, that's great." He was nearly bowled over as Rudiger approached from behind, the giant racoon reaching for Varian with his massive paws. They were both dragged into the creature's chest, nearly stifled by matted grey fur. "Okay, okay, put us down, you big lummox!" Martin fought his way out of Rudiger's grip, yanking Varian out with him before he could pass out. A small smile crept back across his lips. "I don't know if you can tell, but we might have been just a little worried about you. I looked everywhere, but all I managed to find was my horse. Luckily, she still has all the supplies I packed."

Varian dusted himself off and couldn't resist a weak smile back. It quickly faded when he remembered what was missing. "Where's Shay?"

Martin gestured a few paces away from the fire, where Shay slept heavily on the ground. Soot dusted her cheek, and the blanket over her threatened to blow away by the woodland breeze. "She isn't hurt, just so you know," he said as Varian rushed to her, kneeling down by her side. "The old man says she's exhausted, that's all. He says he found her first, then he found me. Something about how she lost control of the spell."

"Indeed," the Keeper explained as he approached, his eyes twinkling as he folded his arms into the depths of his cloak. "Though I fear I may have played a role in your rather unorthodox arrival here as well."

Varian drew his hand away from Shay's forehead and stood to face the Keeper. "Explain, then," he said. "Please, I need to understand what's going on here."

The Keeper remained reserved, unchanged as he spoke. "The girl attempted to use a spell that requires a great deal of discipline. Though she has more than enough power, as I will better explain when we reach my spire, it usually takes more than one mage to guide it. If you hadn't helped her when you did, it's possible you all may have been scattered much further away from each other."

Varian nodded slowly, remembering from before. "It's my fault," he admitted grimly. "I shouldn't have pushed her to do it." He couldn't imagine what must have happened in the Haderon Forest after the spell's wake. It was possible that the Crimson Caster's home had burned to the ground, all because he couldn't find a better way to save his friends.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, the sound of leather creaking as Martin gave a firm squeeze. "Listen, kid," he said quietly, "I don't know a whole lot about magic, but I was there. From what I can tell, there was no other way we could have escaped the witch hunter or Yaeger's men. What matters is that we're alive, and nobody's trying to kill us right now." He narrowed his gaze at the Keeper. "Unless this old man isn't all he seems to be."

The Keeper actually chuckled. "Oh, my dear boy. How I envy the energy you have." He reached a hand out towards the flames and made a swift gesture. The flames immediately died, disappearing without a sound. "Take that lovely cut of meat for the road," he instructed before the boys could protest. "I don't know about the rest of you, but after all the excitement your arrival has brought, I am absolutely famished. You shall all be welcomed to my keep, where questions are asked and answers are found."

The Keeper had no mount of his own, so the journey was slow as he led them through the depths of the woods. Martin helped Varian situate Shay on Rudiger's back, and the guard stayed on the ground to lead his horse through the trees. Varian stayed with Shay, to keep her from falling off.

"So, where exactly are you leading us, again?" Martin asked.

"You will see," the Keeper replied enigmatically.

"There's a spire, up on the mountain," Varian speculated. "He's leading us there."

"Ah, so you've seen it." Their guide nodded his head slowly. "I suppose it is a bit difficult to miss."

Shay stirred, her head lifting away from Varian's shoulder as she groaned. "Spire?" she mumbled.

Varian urged Rudiger to a stop. "Shay!" he reached for her elbow. "Are you alright? How are you feeling?"

Shay groaned again, mashing a palm to her right eye. She said nothing, shaking her head. Varian's eyes widened when he heard her stomach growl, long and loud through the still air.

The Keeper laughed, something Varian realized he seemed to do often. "Oh, my poor child! Have no fear, you will have sustenance soon."

"Martin, toss me some water." Varian caught the flask that Martin threw and offered it for Shay to take. As she drank, he explained the situation to her. "I'm not sure about what happened to Caius, but what matters is that he's far away, now."

As Shay became more alert, she began to look around for something. "Spellbane," she breathed. "My father's sword?"

"I have it," Martin gestured to the broadsword strapped to his mare's saddle. "Though I'm not sure how. I thought it was supposed to destroy magic."

"Not the magic itself, per se," the Keeper mused as they neared the edge of the woods. Light from the afternoon sky filtered through his white beard. "Spellbane is a very rare and unique blade, forged far beyond these lands. I discovered it in my youth, when I wasn't much older than the three of you. Though, I suppose 'discover' is a generous term, as I actually fought in a duel for it. You see, the blade is inscribed with runes so perfectly crafted, it completely overwrites a spell's structure and unravels it, much like pulling on a string. The magic itself is then released, rather than destroyed." He chuckled. "It is called Spellbane, after all, not Magicbane."

"You lost me after 'runes'," Martin grumbled.

Shay sat forward on Rudiger's back, leaning towards the Keeper. "That means you're the one who gave my father the sword!"

"Yes, my dear," the old man answered as he led them out into an open field. "Your father once traveled this very path to reach me." He gestured with his thin hand towards the spire in the distance, its turquoise surface peeking through mountainous clouds. "Now, you follow in his footsteps. In your haste to flee the Haderon Forest, your magic called to the nearest source of arcane order it could find. I could sense you reaching out, and I gave you just a little nudge, a gentle tug, if you will."

Varian rubbed the back of his skull. "It sure didn't feel gentle."

Martin stared at the spire in the distance. "We have to get all the way there? There's no way we'll reach it before dark!"

The Keeper shook his head. "Of course not! You think I would permit you to enter one of the most protected and dangerous vaults on the face of this fragile planet simply for dropping in unannounced in my backyard? I certainly think not. No, you shall rest there, in my keep." He traced his finger down the mountainside, his carefully cut nail coming to a rest at what looked like an observatory.

The grass beneath Rudiger's feet was dry as they continued onward; Varian could feel the racoon's muscles twitching, the animal yearning to move just a little faster. "Here," he urged him to a stop and hopped down to the ground, reaching to catch Shay as she followed. "Don't wander off too far!" he called as the racoon lumbered off, his black feet leaving divots across the field. Killy bounded after him, almost too fast for Varian to see. "Don't worry about them," he continued as he guided the girl forward. "Nothing can mess with Rudiger, now."

Shay was silent as she moved forward, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. She didn't need to say it out loud for Varian to know she wasn't worried about the animals. They shared a silent look, acknowledging the desire to talk, but they couldn't do it here. They dipped down a gentle slope, catching up to Martin and his mare.

"Do you have a name for her, yet?" Varian asked.

Martin squinted. "Beth," he answered after a moment.

"Beth?"

"Beth." Martin squared his shoulders. "It's one of my favorite girl names." He looked back at the horse and smiled. "Yeah, I'll call her Beth."

"I like it." Varian looked to Shay. "What do you think?"

Shay said nothing, but her cheeks flushed as she gave a dismissive nod.

"Huh," Martin raised his eyebrows. "What, no nasty retort for me this time? Better watch it, she might actually say something nice to me next."

An hour passed, and the sun peeked slowly through the clouds, its setting light painting the sky in strokes of pink and purple. Through another grove of trees, they finally reached the foot of the mountain. Rudiger and Killy joined them once more, their faces stained blue with berries. Varian felt himself relax a bit as a genuine smile graced Shay's lips, and she reached for Killy and held him close as they began to tread along the path towards the observatory. Martin took Spellbane and slung it over his back, then pulled something else out from the other side of the saddle. "Oh, hey, Varian," he tossed Quirin's bow to him. "Here. I figured you'd want that."

Varian caught it, a beam spreading over his face as the familiar weight settled in his hands. "I do!" he exclaimed as he equipped himself. "Thanks."

"Watch your step along the way here," the Keeper advised them as they approached the large, double doors. "It can be a bit windy, especially with winter along the way." He raised his hand to open the entrance, but someone on the other side beat him to it. The doors flung themselves aside to reveal a very, short, stocky woman, with a head of ginger hair and large, round spectacles perched across her small nose. Her eyes were beady and peering as she stared out into the evening, her gaze resting on the Keeper with a mixture of relief and irritation.

"There you are," she wheezed in a nasally voice. "I thought you were going to be out all night at this rate, and you can't possibly expect me to come looking for you! I'd end up something's delicious midnight snack, and you'd probably be the toothpick it'd use to clean…ohhhhh, my…" Her jaw suddenly went slack, and she reached to swipe her glasses up and down from her starstruck expression. "Who is _that_ hunk of man meat?" she droned out loud.

To his credit, Varian felt momentarily flattered, then realized the dwarfish woman wasn't talking about him. It took Martin a few moments to notice that he was the one who was expected to answer the question. "W-what? I mean, uh…oh, no. Ew. No. I mean, hi, yes, hi."

"Hello to you too," the woman answered, leaning against the doorway in a failed attempt to appear sultry. She wiggled her decidedly unattractive shoulder in Martin's direction. "You come around here often, hot stuff? Cause I can honestly say I've definitely never seen anyone like you around here before." She shifted her weight back onto her feet. "Actually, come to think of it, no one comes around here. The last visitors we had were –"

"Calliope, dear," the Keeper interrupted. "If we could discuss matters inside, that would be most appreciated, don't you think?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, of course!" Calliope stepped aside and waved her hands in a grandiose gesture of invitation. "Come in, all of you! Welcome to our lovely home!" She fluttered a wink at Martin's wincing face. "And a very warm welcome to you, I might add."

Varian trailed behind as his friends entered the keep, jogging to Rudiger's side. "I'm sorry," he apologized, stroking the racoon's grey head. "I'll come see you in the morning, okay? Look after Beth while we're gone."

Rudiger sniffed once, pushing his nose into Varian's chest. Then he nudged him inside before curling himself up outside the door. Beth stood a ways off, the mare still wary without Martin beside her. "Don't worry," the Keeper told Varian. "Calliope is a very gracious host. She will make sure your mounts have what they need."

Calliope whipped about, nearly knocking aside one of many towers of books stacked about the Keeper's foyer. "I will? Even with that thing outside? You want me to feed _that_?"

The Keeper's eyes narrowed.

Calliope sighed defeatedly. "Yes, sir." Then her face brightened. "I'll do that _after_ I've taken care of the _real_ guest here." She wiggled her eyebrows at Martin. "Right this way!"

Martin shot Varian a dirty scowl as the alchemist tried not to burst out laughing. Even Shay couldn't hide the smallest smirk as they were led past numerous books and scrolls to a large staircase, following Calliope until they reached the second floor. A large but modest dining room greeted them, the long table adorned with a simple blue tablecloth and an empty glass pitcher.

"Have a seat," Calliope offered with another grand gesture. "And don't you worry about sleeping arrangements. As the brand new, certified Keeper of the Spire, I – of course – had the foreknowledge to prepare rooms for each one of you." Her voice petered into a begrudging mumble. "That foreknowledge coming in no way from my master, who may or may not have instructed me to do so beforehand." She cleared her throat authoritatively. "Please, make yourselves at home! Just don't touch anything you think might be okay to touch, because I assure you, it's not. I'll be right back after I draw water for you to wash up with!"

"Wait," Martin asked her before she could disappear through a door. "Where did the old man go?" Varian and Shay looked around; sure enough, the retired Keeper was nowhere to be seen.

Calliope gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, he comes and goes. You get used to it after a while. He likes to keep that air of enigmatic mystery and such. Be right back, handsome!"

Martin shivered involuntary after she left. "And I thought my aunt grossed me out."

Varian glanced down at the table and pulled a chair out for Shay to sit in. "Ladies first."

"Thank you," she finally spoke, setting Killy down on the floor. The hare slowly started to explore the room, carefully sniffing around chair legs and thin tapestries on the nearby wall.

As Shay sat down, Varian glanced around them at the various artifacts adorning the walls. "What do you make of this place? All those books downstairs must be one of a kind." A familiar, nostalgic urge itched in his mind, a longing to sit and study for hours on end. "What I'd give to read them all," he admitted wistfully.

Shay stared at the tablecloth, tentatively fingering the delicate edge. "I can't believe it," she marveled aloud. "I think this is a starving man's tablecloth."

"What does that mean?" Martin asked.

"They're incredibly rare," she explained. "It's extremely complicated spell work, since it has to convert energy into matter, and then there's the restriction of quantity, and…" She looked over and stopped when she saw Martin's blank stare. "It's a tablecloth that can produce whatever food you can think of," she finished with a frown.

Varian gasped, threw himself into a seat, and planted his palms on the table's surface. "Ham. Sandwich." He spoke with an intensity that made the others stiffen with surprise. A porcelain plate appeared, adorned with a thick cut of meat between two soft slices of bread. Varian clutched at his chest, tears of joy welling in his blue eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, then proceeded to consume the precious sandwich with all the decency a starving teenage boy could provide. "It's so good!" he managed to say between mouthfuls. "Also, it's real."

Martin seemed more cautious, carefully placing his hands on the tablecloth. "My mother's potato soup," he muttered, and a bowl of rich, creamy broth popped into existence. A spoon materialized, and the guard gingerly picked it up to take a taste. He took a single bite and silently started to weep. "It tastes just like hers," he mumbled, unashamed of the sudden emotion that swept over him.

Shay watched him, blinking once. "You must miss her," she whispered.

Martin glanced over at her with bleary eyes. He sniffed wetly and swallowed. "I guess I hadn't really thought of it, until now."

The girl forced a weak twitch across her mouth, the smallest hint of a sympathetic smile. "I miss mine, too."

"Giant glass of milk," Varian summoned, his fingers curling around thirty-two ounces of ice-cold cream. "Yes," he sighed happily.

Martin flicked the end of his spoon in Shay's direction. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Shay thought to herself, then rested her knuckles down. "Cottage pie."

"Never heard of it," Martin finished eating and sat back as Shay traced a fingertip around her ramekin of food. "What about you, Varian? You miss your mom?"

Varian stopped drinking and almost swallowed wrong. He froze, then folded his arms across the tabletop. "My mother died when I was four," he answered, his expression bitter as his full stomach soured. "It's fine," he continued before Martin could apologize. "You couldn't have known. It's fine."

Shay set her fork down. "Do you remember her?" she dared to ask.

Varian glanced at her. "Only a little bit," he admitted. "It was a sunny day. She was smiling about something. After that, I only remember the burial. I couldn't understand what was happening at first, but it sank in later. My dad says she loved sweets. Every time she went to market, she'd bring a hard candy sucker back for me." He gave a half-hearted, single chuckle. "She always made sure to get one too big for me to choke on. My favorite flavor was butterscotch."

Silence filled the air; Martin looked extremely guilt-ridden, and Shay bit her lip. After a few moments, she reached out and produced her mother's journal, flipping slowly through the finger-worn pages. "Varian," she said quietly, offering him a passage. As he took it, she explained, "I don't remember her, but your mother was one of the best and only friends my mother ever had."

Varian read the words carefully, translating the Celtic text in his head. He was despondent, his eyes moving back and forth as he digested what was written there. Eventually, he closed the book and took a deep breath, focusing on Shay.

"Why can't I remember you?" he asked suddenly. "Why can't I remember any of it?" He stood from his seat, planting the journal on the table with a sharp rap. "Your mother took my memories for a reason, and I want to know why. You told me it was for a selfish and petty reason, but if she really cared about me and my family so much, then there has to have been more to it than that. So why did she really do it?"

Shay looked like she'd been petrified, her eyes wide with anxiety. Martin was leaning back in his chair, almost ready to fall over. "Look, I don't know what you guys are talking about," the guard spoke rapidly, "but I've already had enough drama for one day, and where in the name of Hers Der Soone is that wom –"

"Don't think I forgot about you, stud muffin!" Calliope reappeared through a completely different door than the one she left through, wearing a cheeky grin on her round, homely face. She had taken her hair down while she was gone, mussy red locks sticking out in frizzy wisps across her shoulders. "Sorry it took me so long, I was in such a rush that I forgot to explain the principle of the starving…man's…tablecloth." She frowned when she saw the empty plates on the table. "What did I say about touching things that look touchable? How did you guys even figure out how it works? Never mind, it doesn't matter," she prattled on before they could explain. "At least now I won't be yelled at for not feeding you. Anyway, since I seem to have misplaced that replication sphere, I have only two baths drawn, so you'll have to take turns." She tilted her glasses down to stare openly at Martin's chest. "Though I'm sure you don't need one to smell amazing."

Martin swallowed to keep from gagging. "You know what, if it's okay with everybody else, I think I'll just wash up in the morning." As they followed the small woman out of the dining area, he leaned in to whisper to Varian, "Can you make sure she's still asleep by then? You know how to make people sleep, I heard that's how you kidnapped the queen –" He was interrupted as Varian launched his elbow into the guard's side. "Right, then," he coughed. "You got me."

They were led down a wide corridor filled with more framed artifacts, none of which Varian could identify. Calliope pointed out the two bathing rooms before leading them to their suite. "There's a bed for each of you," she said as she walked them inside, "a lovely east-facing window to accommodate the gorgeous sunrises we get here, and I guess if you feel like writing a letter to someone, there's that desk in the corner that I have no other place to put. I think the stationary is a basic stock, but I'd have to double-check and see if that's warp stone ink in the well. If it is, it's not harmful, it's just a rare commodity that's compatible only with message-sending bottles." She snorted with laughter, then straightened her blouse. "If any of you have any questions, feel free to ask, preferably now, though I will be just around the corner. Try not to make too much noise, I require this thing called 'beauty sleep', you know."

"Wait," Varian said as their host neared the door. "The Keeper –"

"Nu-u-uh, the _former_ Keeper," Calliope corrected. "I am the Keeper, now."

Varian frowned impatiently. "Fine, whatever, the _former_ Keeper said he could help us find answers here."

Calliope frowned, folding her arms. "Answers to what?"

Varian looked to Shay. As with her mother's journal, she used her magic to retrieve the book Xavier had given her, the heavy tome settling into her hands. "We need to know where we can find the Moonstone," she explained, quiet but assertive. "This book speculates where it came from. It speaks of the Celestials and their power, but it doesn't indicate where the Moonstone is."

"Hmh," Calliope hummed once. "Not very common knowledge, the Celestials. As for the Moonstone, I'm afraid its location was written only on the Demanitus Scroll, a piece of which we kept here until not too long ago."

"The scroll, of course!" Varian pounded his fist into his hand. "My father had a piece of it, I used it to determine the black rocks' connection to the Sundrop flower! You said there's another piece of it here?"

"I said there _was_ ," Calliope corrected. "Check your hearing. The Princess of Corona earned it after reaching the Spire."

"the princess was here?!" Martin exclaimed.

Varian cursed, his shoulders tense. "Is there nothing else that can tell us more about the Moonstone?"

"Or the Celestials?" Shay added.

Calliope let the gears churn, her eyebrows alternating up and down her forehead. "Maybe," she answered slowly. "Possibly. If there is, it won't be here in the keep. You'll have to consult the Spire's vault. Something that we _definitely_ won't be doing tonight." She forced a thin, heartless smile. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Martin said. "Is there a key to this room, and may we have it?"

Calliope beamed, completely missing the point. "Of course! Anything for you, handsome."

As she left, Martin looked at the others. "The minute you two are done washing up, I'm going to bed. And when I wake up in the morning, I'd better not be on the other side of the planet."

Varian held out his hands. "Alright. I don't know how long we'll be welcome here, but as long as we have the opportunity, we need to try and find the answers we need." He gave Shay a piercing look. " _All_ the answers. No more secrets. We're all in this together, now."


	31. Chapter Thirty: Needless

It should have come as no surprise to anyone that Martin was the first one awake in the morning. Varian stirred at the sound of the soldier hauling himself out of bed, peeling his shirt off, and throwing himself into a series of push-ups, clapping his hands with each shove against the forces of gravity. With a perturbed groan, Varian rolled over to glare at the crown of Martin's blonde head.

"Do you have to do that right now?" he grumbled groggily.

"'Fraid so," Martin answered with little sympathy. He stood and crossed to the edge of his bed and began reverse push-ups, sweat barely beading at his temples. "For your sakes, I would have started a whole hour later than my usual schedule, but since I have to be quick before What's-her-name wakes up…"

Varian sat up and immediately started to knead at his left shoulder; the scar tissue ached there, and he felt a sharp sting as he tried to stretch it out.

Martin finished his exercise and glanced over. "What's wrong with your shoulder?"

"You remember when I told you about Haderon's tomb?" Varian gave up, letting his hand fall into his lap. He showed Martin the scar as he explained how he'd been shot.

Martin stared widely at the healed injury, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "When did you say this happened?" he asked in a clinical tone.

Varian had to think for a moment. "Almost two weeks ago?"

"There's no way it should have healed this well," Martin poked a cold finger into Varian's skin. "You shouldn't even be able to use that arm. You say it didn't hurt before?"

"No, it healed within two days." Varian pulled his sleeve back up and shrugged, even though it hurt. "It's part of this power I have, now."

They heard a noise as Shay approached from her side of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her sleeves looked wrung-out. She clenched her jaw as she folded her arms around herself. "The Celestial told you your power is based on the phases of the moon. You were hurt when it was almost full. So when it wanes…"

"I know." Varian frowned. "I thought about that, too."

Martin sat down on Varian's bed. "So, what happens when it's a new moon?"

Varian sighed. "We don't know. Judging at the rate my strength is deteriorating, I would assume whatever happens, I'm not going to like it." He propped his chin in his hand. "Some gift, Luna."

"Hey," Martin said, "at least you can still use your arm most of the time. I'd say that's a fair trade to almost getting killed."

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine," Varian grumbled. "Go wash up before the crazy lady comes."

Martin scrambled to the door, opened it as quietly as possible, and disappeared towards the bathing rooms. Once he left, a strange silence filled the suite as Varian and Shay both waited for the other to say something. As always, Varian was the first to speak. "I take it you didn't sleep well."

"I might have, if I had slept."

Varian patted a spot on the bed for her to sit. She crossed over and sat down stiffly, her hands tightly folded in her lap. Varian could see the pulse in her throat, hammering away under her jaw.

"I'm not mad at you," he suddenly said.

Shay took a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're wrong." She stood and began to pace back and forth. "You should be upset."

"No, I shouldn't," Varian shook his head. "Yesterday was hard, and instead of helping you feel better, all I did was make it worse."

"That's not true –"

"Yes, it is!" Varian winced when she flinched. "Fine. Yeah, I guess I am mad. Just not at you." He sighed. "I'm just…I'm sick and tired of my own helplessness. I feel like after everything we've done, after traveling all this way, we still haven't made any progress."

Shay came to sit back down, tucking one of her legs under her as she leaned forward. "That's not true," she said again, more firmly this time. "And you know it. You know that's not fair, think of all that we've learned."

Varian hung his head, then stared up at her. "But you lost your home. And it's my fault."

Shay suddenly smiled, wetting her lips. "Weren't you the one telling me that we can't change the past? You were right, and it's not your fault." Her face went hard. "I was angry. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't stopped me when you did. I certainly don't want to know what would have happened if we'd stayed."

Varian tried to picture it; Caius storming into the cabin, knocking the bookcases askew, casting the table aside. He almost hoped the place had burned before the witch hunter could get the chance. Until they went back, there was no way of knowing. He tried to think of something else he could have done, to stop things from escalating the way they had. "I don't know," he said out loud.

Shay picked at the hem of her apron, pulling absentmindedly at a loose stitch. "Neither do I. All I know is that I said I would help you with whatever you need, and I meant it. This is where I need to be, and so I'm…" She took a shaky breath. "Content," she concluded. "Whatever bridge waits for me in Corona can wait until I cross it. But for now, I'm here, with…with you. And Martin. We're safe. And that's all that matters."

Varian gave a dry, heartless chuckle. "I'm sorry," he told her.

"For what?"

"For leaving you, that night."

Shay's face froze, and her cheeks turned bright red. "It's fine," she said with the same firmness. "It was nothing, you can just –"

"No, it wasn't," Varian reached to stop her, grasping her hand. "Look, I shouldn't have just left you."

"Varian –"

"No, just let me explain."

Shay opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Okay."

Varian tried to find the right words. "…Shay, it's not that I don't…I-I-I do, i-it's just…" He trailed off when he saw movement across the room, and he leaned his burning face around to see Calliope standing in the doorway, looking groggy and uncomfortable. "How long have you been there?" he asked.

Calliope coughed. "Long enough to feel awkward. Of course, that's nothing really knew, I always feel awkward, not that you need to know that." She cleared her throat and straightened herself. "I, uh, I was told to invite you to dinner. Breakfast, I mean! The, uh, the Keeper, I mean the _retired_ Keeper, would like to speak with the three of you." She rubbed under her nose. "Although I did in fact notice that there are only two of you in here, having a conversation I clearly shouldn't be listening in on, and I should ohhhhhhh…" She dropped her jaw to the floor as she turned to see Martin standing there, dressed in a grey terrycloth towel, his clothes tucked under his arm.

"Martin," Varian plastered a wide, false smile across his teeth. "You're just in time."

Shay turned to look, gasped, then turned back around, using her hand as a blinder.

Martin gave Varian a hot glare. "Clearly."

"The Keeper has invited us to have breakfast with him. Her, I mean. Both of them. Food."

Martin stood there, his bare chest tight as he held his breath. Without a word, he stood aside to let Calliope pass; she left the scene without another word, her beady eyes more than triple their usual size. "If you could all avert your eyes," he ordered in a husky, belligerent tone, closing the door behind him.

The atmosphere was tense as the three filed down the hallway towards the dining area, Shay's face still burning from Martin's conduct. "You couldn't have changed before?" she hissed at him under her breath.

"I wanted to air out," Martin retorted, tugging his collar away from his still-damp skin. "My skin needs time to breathe. Besides, how was I to know she'd be standing right there?"

Varian watched Killy run past, pausing at the end of the hall to wait. They followed him into the dining area, where the Keeper stood in his white robe, his hands folded carefully into the embroidered sleeves.

"Ah, there are my guests," he greeted warmly. He gestured to the table. "Come, sit. Calliope will be with us shortly."

They took the same seats from the night before, and the Keeper rapped his knobby knuckles three times across the fabric of the tablecloth. Three bowls of sweetened porridge appeared for his guests, and as they ate, he studied them with his grey eyes.

Varian noticed; he took one final swallow and placed his empty spoon in the bowl. "So, um…you said something about helping us find answers?"

The Keeper nodded. "I did, though it is less I who can provide answers and more what awaits you within my spire."

"You'll let us into the vault?"

The Keeper held up a finger. "I said no such thing."

Varian blinked confusedly. "Well, then, how are we supposed to find out what's waiting there for us?"

"You will have to enter it, of course. I will simply not be the one to allow you inside."

There was a sudden puff of blue smoke, and Calliope appeared with her hands flung towards the ceiling. "Ta-da! I'll be the one taking you to the – hueugh!" She started coughing and batting away at the smoke around her. "Sheesh! I thought this stuff cleared out faster." She wheezed a bit more, then straightened her glasses. "I will take you to the spire – a-ta-ta-tah!" She threw her hand out before Varian could speak. "On one condition! You are not to touch anything, you are not to stray from the path, and you have to go on a date with me!" She pointed in Martin's direction, who barely managed to swallow his last bite of breakfast.

"Those are three conditions," Shay mumbled.

"They're three components of one condition!" Calliope declared. "Trust me, half of the artifacts in the place run on that logic. So, what'll it be?"

Everyone looked expectantly at Martin, who turned his attention onto Varian. "Why not him?" He planted a hand on Varian's shoulder. "He's way more attractive than I am, and more entertaining. He'll go out with you."

"What?!" Varian exclaimed. "I don't –"

"Eh, save your breath," Calliope waved her hand dismissively at him. "Scrawny, pasty and neurotic isn't really my type."

"Hey, I am not –"

"What the – agh!" Martin leapt up from the table as a flame sprouted into life on the crown of his head. He hastily tried to pat it out, but the fire remained, flickering across his hair. Varian looked to see that Shay's eyes had narrowed into slits, her lips turned into a perturbed frown. "Put it out! Where did it – Alright, alright, I'll do it!" Shay blinked once, and the flames died, leaving Martin's hair disheveled and a little smoky. They glared at each other for a moment, then Martin sighed. "I'll pick you up at six," he grumbled.

"Yes!" Calliope squealed, dancing with victory on the spot. "I have a date, I get a date, I have a hot date tonight!" She sighed with happiness as she produced a large ring of keys and spun it around on her wrist. "Right, then! Let's go find some answers!"

* * *

The morning was bright as they emerged out into the open air; Varian found Rudiger where he'd left him, and he reached to haul Shay up behind him. They watched as Martin reluctantly pulled Calliope up into Beth's saddle with him, situating her in front so that she wouldn't cling to him for the entire ride. As the newly-branded keeper showed them the way, she began to talk a great deal, prattling on until the birds in the mountain trees scattered.

"This'll be so much quicker than the last time I had to check up on the vault," she chatted. "Someday, when my kurlock is all grown up, I'm totally going to ride him everywhere. Now, I'm assuming you don't know what a kurlock is, but don't you worry, I'll enlighten you with my copious bounty of knowledge!"

"What do you think we'll find in there?" Shay whispered, ignoring Calliope as she continued.

Varian looked up at the spire ahead; from the hill they were on, it was easily visible. "I don't know," he admitted. "I was going to ask you."

Shay glanced down at Killy, the hare barely visible in Rudiger's shadow. "Whatever it is, I hope it's nothing dangerous."

Varian feigned a confident smile. "We'll be fine. As long as there's no witch hunter in there, I think we'll manage."

Shay tensed.

Varian turned to flash her an apologetic wince. "Too soon?"

She looked up into the blue sky, watching the white clouds slowly move along. "I just can't shake this feeling that…he's going to find some way to reach us."

"There's no way," Varian said, shaking his head. "He'd have to use the exact same spell, which he could never do. Besides, when we go back…" He took in a deep breath. "My father will be there to help us. So don't worry about it."

The path ahead weaved through another forest, the sycamores weaving and intertwining their branches together. Rudiger sniffed momentarily at a nearby berry bush; since he could no longer pick each one individually, he chomped the entire thing, ripping it out at the roots. Killy darted underneath, snatching up the leftovers.

"Are we almost there?" Martin droned, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"– And then the princess' handmaiden was all like – oh, yeah, it's just through the next clearing."

They emerged out into a grassy stretch, leading towards a metal plate. It looked like the one Varian and Shay had encountered on the sea floor in Corona, only this one was much larger, and the engraving was much less symbolic. The plate was laid before a large door, its surface a polished, pristine blue stone. The spire towered overhead, reaching almost until it pierced the clouds above.

"It's incredible," Martin breathed, his jaw slack as he stared upward.

"You like that, huh?" Calliope said flirtatiously. "There's more where that came from, honey bunch." She hopped down from the horse and made her way towards the door, fiddling with her giant key ring. "Now, I made sure to memorize which key is the right one this time. Don't want another princess ready to throttle me like last time, right?"

The others dismounted and followed suit; Varian hesitated before placing a foot on the plate. When nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief. They waited as Calliope fitted a delicate silver key into the lock, turning it with a flick of her wrist.

'Ladies and gentlemen," she announced in a loud voice. "I give you…pause for effect…the Spire's Vault!"

The doors swept open to reveal a grand foyer, pearlescent columns lining the way to an enormous spiral staircase. The staircase pillar was almost larger around than Corona's castle tower, stretching stories higher than they could see. At each level were nested hundreds of artifacts of all shapes and sizes, each brimming with untapped energy. Varian could almost smell the magic in the air; it buzzed in his teeth like an electric current, and he could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end. He could tell Shay felt the same, and even Martin seemed to sense something special in this place.

"Don't worry, everybody's always speechless when they first come in here," Calliope broke the awe-bound silence. "Don't be embarrassed, it's a natural response."

"Magnificent," Varian stated in wonder. "Look at this place! The architecture alone is a marvel, let alone the no-doubt thousands of years of knowledge kept here. How come more people haven't sought this place out?"

Calliope sniffed. "People used to, a long time ago. At least, that's what my master says."  
Varian turned to her. "Why did they stop?"

"Simple: people don't look for magic anymore. Now it's all gears and gizmos and snake oil and stuff." She glanced pointedly at the vial sticking out of his pocket. "No offense."

"Some taken," he grumbled.

"So, we're here," Martin clapped his hands to his sides. "Now what?"

Calliope shrugged. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You're the keeper, aren't you?"

"Just because I'm the keeper doesn't mean I know everything!" Calliope protested. "It means I know almost everything! There's a difference."

"You must know how everything is categorized, at least," Varian supplied. "Where's everything in here that relates to the Celestials?"

Calliope blew out her cheeks. "Hate to break it to you, but not much. The Celestials are pretty secretive. Only a few people know they even exist, and they don't like to meddle with what they term 'mortal affairs'. I'll show you what I have, but like I said, it's slim pickings."

They made their way towards the stairs, but instead of climbing them, they followed Calliope around to the other side of the base. There, they found a series of steps leading down, and she grabbed a nearby device off the wall. "A nether crystal torch, from the world of Niflheim," she brandished it before holding it aloft towards her descent. "Pretty rare, like everything else in here."

"Is that the Black Cauldron of Wales?" Shay observed out loud.

"Sure is! Don't throw a dead body in there, or this whole place will be swarmed with the undead."

"Oh, that's great," Martin said sarcastically. "We love the undead."

Calliope gave him a weird look. "You're into that sort of thing?"

"Yes," Martin nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely."

Calliope's face hardened. Then she shrugged. "We'll work on that before the wedding, I guess."

As they went deeper, the stairs opened out into a dim chamber filled with shelves of trinkets and baubles, parchments and scrolls, daggers and spears. Some items had been placed on pedestals, trapped behind protective glass. Varian almost ran into one, but Shay caught his arm before he fell head-first into a suit of armor.

"Let's see here," Calliope began scanning the wall first, her eyes narrow behind her large spectacles. "We don't want catheters, no to the Cerberus claws…ah! Here we are! These are the only things I have that pertain to the Celestials." She stood before a stone drawer with a silver handle, and she reached to pull it open. Inside the drawer was a single, card-sized, leather-bound book. On top of the book rested a medallion, etched with a familiar symbol: three lines striking through a perfect circle.

"It's the same symbol as the door on Haderon's tomb," Shay stared.

"And my father's belongings." Varian wiped a hand across his face. "I still don't understand. What does it mean?"

"Oh, that? That's the emblem of the Dark Kingdom," Calliope explained matter-of-factly. "It wasn't always called that, though. It was once known as the kingdom of Lunaris, but of course, that's not much more common knowledge than –"

Varian snapped his face towards her. "What did you just say?"

"Lunaris. Seriously, you need to get those cleaned out. But yes, the emblem used to be a much older symbol until the more recent Brotherhood decided to adopt it."

"Where did you learn all of this?" Varian demanded, his fingers clenched.

Calliope began to look unnerved. "Look, you didn't ask for information on the Brotherhood, you asked for information on the Celestials. This is all I have. Now, obviously, there's more to that medallion than the Dark Kingdom symbol – hey!" She managed to dodge Varian's hand as it shot out, snatching the silver coin. "You could just ask for it nicely, I would have handed it to you!"

Varian flipped the medallion over. On the other side of the coin was an extremely detailed sigil, the markings almost miniscule. Instinctively, he reached for his bag to find his eyeglass, then remembered that he'd left it in Lyra's cabin. He had to settle for his goggles, holding the eyepiece at a further angle. It wasn't much, but it was better than the naked eye.

Shay asked Calliope for the book; the keeper handed it over with a begrudging expression. "There may be a cipher in here," she told Varian. "We can study it more outside."

"I don't need a cipher."

Shay looked up. "What do you…" She trailed off when she saw him. His eyes were narrow, glowing slits, his gloved hand simmering as it clenched the medallion. The streak in his hair was an almost white blaze, sparks falling like stars to the ground.

Calliope took off her glasses, checking her vision. "What in the name of…" She glanced at Martin. "Does this happen often to him?"

Martin had enough wits about him to shrug. "Often enough."

"It's…" Varian pursed his lips, concentrating. "It's a key…to another chamber. There's something inside it that we need."

Shay's hand hovered, too afraid to touch him. "Do you know where it is?"

"I…" The glow in his hair suddenly dissolved, and he snapped his eyes open with a sharp exhale. He winced, grinding the back of his thumb into the sharp pain in the middle of his brow. "I-I can't tell you any more than that. Her voice is too faint for me to hear."

"Right," Calliope said slowly. "Maybe you should lie down. Not here, of course, there's no way I'd be able to get you out. Though I bet handsome here could do it just fine."

Martin grabbed Varian's arm. "Okay, you've shown off your magic powers. Now, let's get out of here, I'm not carrying you."

"No, wait," Varian shook him off. He straightened himself, then wiped at his nose. He could tell it was bloody, but he didn't care. He fixed his steely gaze on Calliope again. "I need everything you have on this Brotherhood."

Calliope wasn't impressed. "You look like you can barely stand," she asked, folding her arms, "let alone handle more of what this place can give you."

"I'll handle whatever I need to," Varian squared his shoulders, his jaw clenched. "If necessary, I'll forgo your permission and find it myself."

"Hey," Martin raised his hands, "if you do that, you're on your own."

"Thank you, new boyfriend," Calliope grinned at him. "It's so nice to know I can already rely on you. As for Mr. Glow Man here, I'll show you what I have on the Brotherhood, but in exchange, you must make one donation to the Spire's Vault."

Varian blinked. "Like what?"

"I don't know, something of great knowledge or power," Calliope answered with a shrug. "And that's not something I just made up on the spot. My master would say the same. First request is free, but the next comes at a price. We have to restrict thieves and ne'er-do-wells in some way around here."

"I have something," Shay offered quietly.

Varian looked at her. "Absolutely not," he ordered.

"Varian, we have nothing else to give."

"We are not handing over Spellbane, we need that sword!" He thought for a moment, though thinking gave him a tremendous headache. "You said knowledge was a fair exchange? What if I gave you every single alchemical formula I know?"

Calliope considered it for a moment. "I do suppose I have only one entry for alchemy…but I'd really prefer an artifact of some kind."

"Wait!" Shay held her hands out, and her mother's journal appeared. "What about this?"

The keeper glanced at the worn cover, tucking her glasses over the bridge of her small nose. "Depends. Is it the only copy?"

"Yes, it's my mother's. The Crimson Caster?"

Calliope's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped to the floor. " _The_ Crimson Caster? The Scion of the Seven Sisters? _Done!_ " she snatched the book out of Shay's fingertips, giggling with glee as she clutched it to her chest. "I can't believe it! We don't have anything of hers! She was always so secretive, or at least that's what the Keeper told me. Sorry, I mean the _retired_ Keeper –"

"Hold on!" Varian exclaimed. "Shay, you can't give her your mother's journal!"

"It's okay," Shay insisted. "It's what she would do."

"But it's not what _you_ would do. I know how much that journal means to you, it's all you have left!"

Shay looked away, her expression grim. "I don't need it anymore," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "If it helps me get her back…You have my offer," she told Calliope. "Now, show us what you have of the Brotherhood."


End file.
